


Breaking Your Windows

by Continuously_Variable_Transmission



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: And Other Character Rehabs That Should Have Happened, Angst, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Mon-El Not Being An Entire Asshole, Romance, Slow Burn, SuperCorp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:28:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 78,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21785215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Continuously_Variable_Transmission/pseuds/Continuously_Variable_Transmission
Summary: Years after Kara reveals her identity to Lena and their friendship falls apart, a Red K exposure causes Kara to seek her out. In the aftermath of their meeting, both women struggle to face their past, their choices, and the question of whether they can trust each other again--and at what price.
Relationships: Alex Danvers/Maggie Sawyer, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, Kara Danvers/Mon-El
Comments: 205
Kudos: 530
Collections: Gays in Earth 38





	1. Some Things Never Change

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This story will be Supercorp, as tagged, and is more or less canon through S2. This is my first post. I’ve wanted to write something for years, so you will see old characters in this story. I began brainstorming during S3, and I’m excited to see that many of the themes/dialogue showing up in S5 mirror what I tried to touch on.
> 
> Content Warning for mature—and occasionally explicit—content. No explicit M/F content.
> 
> CW also for dubious consent and implied nonconsent. I realize there is a range of sensitivity and definition around consent, and a variety of ways this story will hit people, or maybe not hit them. Please take care. The question of consent could be read as a major thread running throughout this story and layered into interactions, so I will not tag it in individual chapters.

**_// NATIONAL CITY NEWS //_ **

**_FIVE DEATHS IN ESCAPE POD CRASH_ **

_An escape pod launch from an orbiting alien ship has killed at least five people, including one child, upon impact on the northern outskirts of Metropolis tonight. At least seven other people have been hospitalized, some in critical condition, at Metropolis General. Authorities are rushing to investigate the crash site, and have warned the general public to avoid the area. A quarantine order was issued for any person who experienced direct contact with the injured and deceased individuals._

_Officials offered no comment on the possibility of alien survivors aboard the crashed pod, but reported that Red Kryptonite was removed from the hold and secured. Alien crews in orbit confirmed that four other pods also launched today. A government official speaking on condition of anonymity stated that these pods had been tracked and intercepted successfully. This is a developing story._

_Tonight’s crash is part of the continuing crisis in orbit. Yesterday, monitoring agencies across the planet reported that a group of rogue alien ships had descended into Earth airspace. Ship captains insisted their crew were desperate after being denied requests for emergency landing. Alien survivors of recent pod landings said they had broken into the pods amid life-threatening situations—disease outbreaks, shortages of food and supplies, and crew mutinies. Many of these survivors were detained by authorities and are being tested for infectious diseases._

_Human health organizations, medical agencies, xenobiologists, and special research teams from hospitals around the globe are working quickly to determine the nature and threat level of the diseases allegedly harbored by some of the orbiting alien population. Until more information is known, the general public is urged to take basic precautionary measures when interacting with unfamiliar aliens. Most alien vessels claim the majority of their passengers are healthy but malnourished refugees fleeing harsh conditions and war._

_The world’s militaries remain on alert. Several nations have warned of retaliatory action if unapproved surface landings continue. Negotiations with alien crews are underway to try to avoid endangerment of Earth’s citizens…_

* * *

  


Maybe removing her office's balcony door years ago had somehow encouraged people to enter through the windows instead.

Lena flinched as glass shattered everywhere with a monstrous noise, shards spewing across the floor, across her desk, across the room, bits and pieces skittering beneath the couch at the far end. She instinctively hunched down into the stiff back of her chair, shielding herself. Even so, a stray fragment sliced along her exposed left elbow and left a cut of several inches along her forearm. 

For less than a second, everything from the blood beginning to ooze warmly on her arm to the glass still tinkling throughout her office stopped. And then her brain kicked in.

“What on Earth is—” she half-exclaimed, instantly out of her chair and whirling, ready to defend herself. Years of assassination attempts had committed this reaction to muscle memory.

But she froze immediately, her eyes widening in disbelief as she realized who her intruder was. 

_Supergirl_. Or someone who looked very near identical to her.

Astonishment flashed errantly across Lena’s face; she couldn’t suppress it. That couldn’t be Kara. The woman before her stood suited in full-body compression gear. It was predominantly navy, with sharp crimson and gold accents patterned in. Pronounced differences in contour instantly caught Lena’s eye, and she realized the suit must be armored—including the crimson shoes sheathing her feet. The simple golden belt had been exchanged for a thin utility belt, with stylized compartments. The cape seemed to be the only original piece of the Supergirl suit still in use.

Her trespasser strolled through the space where the door had been, years ago.

“Good evening, Ms. Luthor,” the blonde greeted her, offering a strange, flippant smile. She tossed a few locks of hair back while she surveyed the damage her entrance had caused. “Wish I could say I was sorry for the window damage, but, you know…someone removed the door, so…”

Lena found her voice and her anger, projecting both forcefully, her eyes blazing.

“Who the hell are you?”

To her surprise, the woman sneered in response. Lena felt the first prickle of fear as the intruder continued forward. 

“Wow, that hurts. I know it’s been a long time, and I’ve been—” the glass crunched underfoot loudly, “— _upgraded_ …but I thought you’d remember me. Kara. Your friend.”

“You’re not my friend,” Lena growled. She clenched her fists at her sides, refusing to retreat. “You never were.”

Kara’s eyes glinted. 

“You’re right. I wasn’t your friend. You shared so much more with me than you did with anyone else, didn’t you? Your time, your thoughts, your feelings, and the _mommy issues_ …” she trailed off on purpose, her face hard and supercilious. “So I guess that makes me the woman you poured your tortured little heart out to. Is that more accurate?” 

Lena’s jaw clenched. If she’d had superpowers, she would have lunged at the Kryptonian. 

But this wasn’t the Kara she’d known, and Lena stood both seething and slightly bewildered at her aggression. Under that there was fear. She wondered if she could open her desk drawer and draw the Kryptonite blade before she was stopped. She wagered she could not—and worried that the lead lining had already clued Kara in about what was inside.

“Why are you here?” Lena tried instead, buying time. Her face had cooled into a bitterness that could easily match Kara’s callousness. “Have a years-old apology you finally remembered to deliver?”

The blonde drew close enough to test her personal space, apparently indifferent to how long it had been. That was when Lena noticed the flickers of glowing crimson under her skin.

_Red Kryptonite. Perfect. An unstable and uninhibited Kryptonian who launches CEOs from buildings._

“Oh, I just came here to talk,” Kara smirked, “like old times, Lena. Don’t you remember?”

Lena glared into her eyes and put her hands on her hips. 

“I have _nothing_ \--" she emphasized the words quietly, dangerously, "to say to you, Kara Danvers.” 

But the Kryptonian looked as if she wasn’t hearing a word Lena said; her stare seemed bored, apathetic. She merely placed her left hand on Lena’s desk and leaned on it, blithely and effortlessly dominant, as if imitating Cat Grant.

After a moment, Lena realized the pose was actually meant to draw her attention to the blonde’s hand—and to the elegant line of metal around her ring finger. 

Kara studied her with interest and faint glee now.

“You have nothing to say to me?” the Kryptonian echoed. She moved from the desk and spread her arms. “I came to you, made this dazzling entrance, generously took the first step towards our reconciliation…and you have nothing to say?”

Blood dripped from Lena’s elbow as she searched Kara’s eyes, trying to absorb the fact that she had gotten married.

“I’ve _missed_ you,” the blonde was continuing. Her tone had become a grating combination of anguish and spite, and Lena’s jaw clenched tighter. “I’ve missed you _so much_ …”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you decided to _lie_ to me,” Lena shot back, lifting her chin.

“It was a pair of glasses,” Kara snickered. “Did I lie to you, or did you lie to yourself?”

Lena’s face hardened into stone. 

“Get out of my office,” she snapped, her voice low.

“No,” came the Kryptonian’s simple reply. She gestured to the rest of the office. “I’m not done reminiscing yet.”

Lena knew as well as Kara that she had little choice at the moment. Her whole body tightened, her eyes narrowing with fury. 

“Well, then, make yourself at home. Reminisce about your betrayal. Or the non-friendship that existed between us. Feel free.” 

Kara’s eyes shone like a cobra’s, and she took another unsettling step forward, this one very definitely into Lena’s personal space. Her blue eyes bored into the pale ones opposite her. 

“You’re completely right,” she murmured. “What existed between us _wasn’t_ friendship, was it, Ms. Luthor?”

“Stop calling me that,” Lena hissed.

Kara looked faintly amused.

“Why? It’s your name, and I’m glad you’re making peace with it,” Kara offered, her eyes still on Lena’s. “I see you’re reapplying the full family name to some of your projects. Continuing to shield the inventory your brother developed from scrutiny. Carrying out your own special R&D projects under the radar to assist the—oops, I wasn’t supposed to know about all that, was I?” 

Kara batted her eyelashes faux-sweetly.

“Why does _any_ of that matter to you?” Lena asked, violently wishing that Kara would either leave or announce what she was here for.

The blonde’s gaze dropped in response. She openly reacquainted herself with the physical presence of her ex-best friend. 

“Because it tells me you’re still ambitious. Still resourceful. Still ruthlessly pragmatic. And that—” her eyes slowly roamed the lines of Lena’s face, “—that turns me on.”

Shock gripped Lena through the lungs. 

_What?_

She waited for some unfunny, insulting punchline, but none came. Kara was serious. Lena fought to keep her face impassive as she processed; all at once, it occurred to her why the blonde might really be here. 

It appalled her—and alarmed her. Her hands dropped from her hips.

“You came here for me…”

“Of course,” Kara grinned, pleased at the awareness dawning on Lena’s face. “I’ve _always_ come for you.”

The brunette ignored the bile rising in her throat. She started to make a series of quick, unpleasant calculations as warm drops of blood fell from her fingers. 

“I was flying around, thinking about what a shame it was,” Kara went on, frowning, “that we never realized our full potential. I thought I’d stop by. See if you were less angry than the last time I saw you.”

Lena raised an eyebrow and drew on years of cunning. 

“Clearly I’m not any less angry,” she murmured slowly, her tone melting into suggestive, “but anger can coexist with curiosity…”

A sultry, aggressive smile formed on Kara’s lips, unlike any Lena had seen before. The Kryptonian regarded her evenly.

“I always admired this about you. Unlike the rest of my friends, you never had a problem dealing in shades of gray or contradiction. You would touch what everyone else was afraid to, and you liked it. You wanted to.”

Though the compliment seemed almost honest, Lena looked into the brilliant blue eyes staring at her and felt little except disgust and fear. They weren’t Kara’s eyes. Yet the real Kara might still remember what was happening here, and she utterly wanted the other woman to, because this was about to hurt. Like hell.

“You’re right,” she whispered, her delivery flawless, “and what I liked touching most was you.”

She moved quickly, reaching for the Kryptonian’s belt, pulling. Although they’d never done this before, she found Kara’s lips easily, naturally, and received an immediate response. Kara explored the inside of her mouth as Lena focused, enticing the Kryptonian with her touch, her tongue, suppressing her revulsion. Kara’s hands soon rose to her face, and they pressed against her skin with a desire that felt cold.

When Lena heard a soft moan, she redirected her concentration to Kara’s hip, where her right hand was sliding away. She found the drawer at her side and yanked, quickly pulling the knife. 

Kara had already gone rigid. Lena held the blade to her throat and looked her right in the eye.

“Get the _hell_ out of my office,” she snarled again.

It was satisfying to watch weakness and then pain alter the shape of Kara’s face, but the blonde wasn’t entirely cowed. She tilted her head.

“I see you're still a tease,” she murmured, her gaze dark. “Some things never change.”

Lena ignored her. She kept the knife steady and her eyes firm. 

Kara took a leisurely step backward, then a few more, crunching fresh glass beneath her boots as she retreated. 

“I guess this is goodbye. For now, at least.”

She winked at Lena before walking back through the window. She jetted away from L Corp’s offices as suddenly as she had come.

Lena stood amid the sparkling disarray in her office, feeling like a mosaic piece that had cracked and skittered out of place, the knife in her hand just now beginning to tremble.

All at once her space seemed alien, foreign to her, changed in a way that made it less hers. She glanced away from it, lowering her hands, and finally looked at the blood trickling down her left forearm. Her mind whirled silently with nausea, outrage, and denial, hardly able to fathom what had just taken place. Had Kara really broken her window and thought it was okay to talk, to chat like nothing was wrong? Had Kara really just propositioned her for something? Had she really just kissed Kara in order to escape? 

Red K or not, she felt violated, enraged, unable to process anything else. 

But the brisk night air of National City was rushing through her open window with a reality check. Her arm was still bleeding, and the knife was glued to her other hand by adrenaline. She felt flushed, unsettled. It had all happened. And now she needed to deal with it. 

_Act._

Repulsed, she wiped the taste of Kara from her mouth and called security.


	2. Unfinished Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I appreciate the feedback so far! Most of the story is complete, except for final revisions—I’m a little particular, even when I don’t quite know what I’m doing.

It was overwhelming thirst that dragged Kara back into some level of consciousness. Groggy, she reached to her left, groping around until she discovered the cup she sought. It was cool, refreshing, wet against her fingers. She sat up a little in bed, poised to gulp down whatever was in it. 

But as soon as the glass touched her lips, as soon as she felt that light press against her mouth, a violent nausea seized her.

“ _Rao_!” she coughed, her mind sputtering to awareness. 

She shoved the cup back onto her nightstand. She tried to blink away a series of disturbing images and sensations, but they wouldn’t disappear. Her mind held them up as truth. _That—that wasn’t a dream…_ The anxiety in her body escalated, and she threw her legs over the bed in a crooked jumble, her head sinking desperately into her hands as she sat.

“Rao, no. No, no, no…shit…”

“What’s wrong?” 

Startled, she turned to face Mon-El almost too quickly, and then too brightly, in some frantic attempt at damage control while she tried to make sense of what had happened.

“Oh, nothing, just…aftereffects of Red K, I think,” she croaked. Her smile felt wan and fake as she rushed to reassure him, and she forced down the Kryptonian curse words in her mouth. “Hangover. I was just confused for a moment. I’m okay.”

Mon-El's concern remained on his face. He propped himself up with one elbow on the other side of the bed and laid a gentle hand on her with the other. 

“You sure?” 

“I think so,” Kara half-lied—and felt a wave of guilt as she looked him straight in the face. She swallowed, scrambling for a distraction.

“I’m just lucky you got to me in time. Thank you. It could’ve been so much worse without you there.”

Mon-El’s smile was cheeky. Oblivious.

“Well, I’m glad I could help. Sometimes even Supergirl needs to be saved,” he teased, leaning in. 

His kiss was meant to be comforting, but Kara still flinched away.

“Sorry,” she apologized. It felt awkward as he frowned at her, and she knew the tightness around her eyes was visible.

“I’m just feeling a little off right now,” she tried to explain.

“Ah…” 

He pouted for a moment, withdrawing from her. Then his eyes took on a more understanding, if also suggestive, look. “Well, I’ll let you be. I have to shower anyways. But let me know if I can help you feel a little less off and a little more…on.”

Kara’s smirk at him was tepid but present. “I will.”

She just couldn’t get out of bed fast enough. 

Her feet padded right into the kitchen. She went to the island, leaning on it, staring at it, focusing on the jagged grain in the wood. She felt the polish under her hands. Her pajamas were tight, hot against her skin, and the sunlight filtering into the room hurt her eyes. She tried to take deep breaths. Her lungs stubbornly resisted. 

Is this what strangulation by a boa constrictor felt like for humans? 

A sense of panic started to course through her veins as she struggled to control herself. Her mind began to race and spin, to recede from the present, from the wood grain, and return to Lena’s tongue in her mouth— 

She blinked away the intrusive fragments of memory again, her skin flaming.

The scene was jarring, humiliating, and it would not stop parading around her mind.

_Rao, what did I do?_

_How could—?_

She squeezed her eyes shut and laid her palms flat against the island, willing it to provide her with stability and support. Her strength remained carefully controlled. She took a full breath, then another. Finally the instincts she had honed over countless crises began to kick in.

_You can fix this. You’ve handled all the other Red K incidents. You’ve checked in, apologized, and repaired relationships however they needed to be repaired._

_You can fix this._

She let out a long breath and opened her eyes. Her wedding band gleamed in the morning light, blinding her with the truth that this wasn’t like all the other incidents.

_How do I fix this?_

Anxious, Kara turned and retrieved her phone from its charger on the counter. Her first call was, as always, to her sister. She waited through a few painful rings before she was picked up.

“Alex, I need to talk to you,” she said quietly, urgently. She stole a glance across the way, through the bedroom door, listening to the sounds of her husband showering. “And I definitelyneed some coffee.”

Her sister asked no questions. When they hung up, Kara said a time-honored, wordless thank you to Rao for giving her Alex.

She stripped back in the bedroom, using a burst of speed to throw on a pair of jeans and relaxed shirt. As an afterthought, noting the weather outside, she grabbed a jacket with Catco’s logo emblazoned on it. Mon-El continued to shower and hum to himself in the bathroom. 

“I’m getting coffee with Alex,” she called in to him, “I should be back in a little bit.”

She slipped the ring she wore as Supergirl off, replacing it with one made of natural Earth metals and diamonds. Her glasses were next. Then, tucking her phone into her pocket and throwing up her tousled hair, she nabbed her wallet and was out the door.

National City greeted her with the workweek’s noise and bustle. Cars and delivery trucks sped along the street, a few angrily honking as pedestrians struggled to finish their crossing at the light ahead. Several people rushed past her in a bid to grab an approaching bus. She caught a whiff of cinnamon rolls and cookies, delicious offerings from one of the bakeries near her apartment. The early spring air helped loosen up her lungs and mind as she walked, rather slowly, to the nearest subway stop.

As usual, she tried to enjoy these moments when she could pretend, if only for a small part of her day, that she was like everyone else in the city: she wore comfortable clothing sometimes, she took public transportation, and she met up with friends on the weekends for outings like coffee and brunch. 

By chance she caught the subway as it arrived. She boarded near the last car, and hoped her timing would work out with Alex’s. The trivial conversations and the juddering, noisy clacking of the subway cars comforted her as she rode along—again, reminders that she wasn’t isolated on an island of Super duties. She let several stops pass, many of them elevated, and deliberately focused on the people around her and city sights rather than her own thoughts. This mundane practice, this returning to some sense of normalcy, had become essential over the years, and it helped her calm down now.

_“This is 28 th Street and Division. Please exit for Eastern Market, National City Institute for the Arts — East Campus, and National City Memorial Hospital…”_

At last Kara stood.

Thankfully, Alex was already waiting for her outside the coffee shop they’d talked about trying. The redhead leaned easily against the building’s one exposed side, its brick surface painted with the mural of a supernova. Kara took note of her expression—concerned—and her bright athletic wear, which suggested she had come from a run. 

Though Alex likely already knew something was wrong, she smiled and hugged Kara a tight hello. 

The sharp aroma of roasted beans wafted into Kara’s nose as they went inside and surveyed the shop. The space was modest: small enough to be intimate, but large enough to allow some degree of privacy. Plenty of natural light and attention to interior design created a sense of openness. The polished sign above the barista counter read, in precise and clean lettering, _Welcome to Junkie’s._

A slim work surface had been bolted along most of one window, and the rest of the shop consisted of tables, comfortable chairs, and a dark, worn sofa. Most of the interior colors in the shop were neutral, and mellow instrumental music played through the speakers. Vintage travel posters had been scattered around the walls to give color and character. Kara found herself enjoying the place as she looked around. With some relief, she noticed only two other customers sitting in the shop; fortunately, it was quiet. The last thing she wanted was to talk loudly about this particular issue in public. She let Alex take the lead as they made their way to the counter. 

After ordering their drinks, and after Kara had texted James to let him know she wouldn’t be at Catco, they moved to a table near the window. Kara sat down in her chair heavily, almost regretting her hasty decision to do this. She hadn't thought of a good way, _any_ way, to open the conversation.

“ _So_ ,” Alex filled in slowly, blowing on her coffee, “did something else happen during the Red K exposure? You sounded a little shaken up on the phone, and I’m worried.”

Kara looked down. She started stirring at her coffee with a fork, making ridiculous twirls in the dark liquid as she stalled.

“I…I did something bad, Alex,” she finally said. 

She kept her eyes glued to the swirling coffee as her mouth became drier. 

Alex seemed to sense her turmoil, and interrupted.

“Okay, let me just say first that if it was because of Red K, which has always caused you to do things you never would, that’s understandable. You didn’t ask for the exposure, and you shouldn’t feel guilty about it,” she reasoned, trying to look Kara directly in the eye. 

Kara felt herself grimace as Alex continued. 

“Also—more importantly—I’m your sister, Kara. I’m still going to love you. No judgments. You don’t even have to tell me now if you don’t want to, or aren’t ready to.”

Kara sighed. “I know, and I’m thankful for that, I really am. But this is different,” she replied in a hoarse voice, her eyes at last meeting Alex’s. She must have looked slightly desperate. “The thing is, I—I went to visit Lena…”

Her sister’s eyebrows shot skyward at the mention of National City’s resident tycoon. Then she frowned. 

“You went to visit Lena?” Alex repeated. Her frown deepened. “But…but you two haven’t talked since—”

“Since I told her. I know,” Kara curtly said the words, visibly tensing. “She never wanted to speak to me again.”

Alex gave her a flummoxed look. “Okay, so…it’s been years, so why did you…?”

The blonde shook her head and went back to forlornly stirring her coffee.

“I don’t know…I—” she winced, catching herself before she could spin it into a more palatable story. _If you're going to do this, do it._ She started again, slowly. “No, that’s a lie. I know why I went there. I think we have…” she faltered, hedged, “… _unfinished business_ , Alex.” 

Her eyes rose again and pleaded for her sister to comprehend this, but Alex’s face remained blank, floundering at best. The DEO agent chuckled a bit.

“I’m sorry, I know you mean something by that, I’m just confused. The last I remember about Lena was that you were going to tell her your identity, and then everything blew up because she reacted so badly. You haven’t said a word to her since, she just shut you out. Right? So then what—” Alex lowered her voice and leaned in, sensing the whole point rested on those two words, “—what do you mean, _unfinished business,_ Kara? What did you do?”

Kara stopped her nervous stirring and looked guiltily out the window at passerby, at the light traffic streaming past, at the surrounding buildings. She wished she was taking a Kryptonite arrow to the chest instead of saying this—even though her sister might be the only one who could understand. 

She tucked her hair behind her ears, licked her lips, and took a sip of coffee. Her face crumbled into the mortified wince she had been hiding all morning. She forced herself to look at Alex and say it. 

“I, um…” she swallowed, trying not to choke on the words, “I made advances toward her…?” 

Alex blinked a few times, dumbfounded.

As she watched the shock on her sister’s face, Kara felt fear fill her stomach.

“Wait, I need to hear that one more time,” the agent frowned again and clasped her hands together on the table calmly, eyeing Kara as if she was trying to make sure her sister was serious. “You did what now?”

Kara swallowed helplessly.

“I…okay, I sort of…aggressively flirted with her and…we kissed,” she explained, unable to make it sound any better. 

Even when she called it _aggressive flirting_. 

“That’s—” Alex’s eyebrows rose again as she looked at her sister, “ _—wow_ , Kara…” 

The agent took a sip of coffee, trying to process.

“Normally I’d say congratulations…but I know _she_ hates you, _you’re_ married, and as far as I’m aware, _neither_ of you are gay. So what am I missing here?”

At any other time, Kara would have laughed. It sounded ridiculous. It should be ridiculous. Yet here she was.

“Nothing,” Kara admitted quietly, pained. “You’re not missing anything.”

Alex looked worried now. Kara scratched absently at her cup, her eyes downcast. 

“Which is why I needed to talk,” she continued. “I’m all screwed up, Alex. I feel like _crap_ about what happened.”

Alex let out a long breath.

“Because…you feel like you cheated on Mon-El?” she guessed, her tone as kind as possible.

Kara nodded a little. “I kissed someone else, didn’t I…?”

Her sister gave her a sympathetic look. “Okay, hey, take a step back. You were on Red K. Remember the first time it happened? When you said shitty things to me and hurled Cat off her own balcony?” 

It didn’t feel right to Kara to start comparing these situations, or to emphasize her goodness of character right now, but Alex went on, unaware, and the Kryptonian’s face tightened.

“Deep down, it wasn’t _really_ what you wanted to happen. It was _part_ of you trying to prove a…a repressed point in a really exaggerated way. It wasn’t normal. You regretted it afterwards, you didn’t like what you did while you were on it, and you—”

“Alex, that’s what I’m trying to say,” Kara interrupted, unable to hear more, however terrified she was to tell the truth. She could not let this be swept under the rug. “I think I feel guilty because _…_ it _is_ what I really wanted. I think I _did_ mean it. I went after it.” 

She blinked, startled by the surety in her own voice. 

But at her sister’s silence, she felt the shame she’d been holding back start to crawl under her skin, making her feel small and physically sick. She folded miserably in her seat.

“I woke up next to Mon-El feeling like a monster this morning. I’m married,” Kara whispered, her voice wavering. She shut her eyes against the landscape of the shop, summoning the truth, knowing she needed to tell all of it if she wanted Alex to understand. “Worse, Lena didn’t even want me there. I was so…rude to her that she kissed me as a diversion. And then had to hold a Kryptonite _knife_ to my throat to get me to leave. It was a _trainwreck,_ Alex. _Horrible_.” 

Kara could hardly breathe as the events of the night replayed themselves in her mind once more, souring the taste of her coffee. Her face pinched.

“How could I put her in that position? How could this happen?”

 _How could I_ want _this to happen?_

She empathized with the look on her sister’s face while also hating it. After a moment, Alex seemed to collect herself and her thoughts. She took a breath, another sip of coffee, and looked back at Kara. 

“One thing at a time, and first things first,” the agent said, her words steady, solid, and calm. “You’re not a monster. You’re allowed to make mistakes, especially in those circumstances, without your mistakes defining you. Are you _certain_ this wasn’t like the other times on Red K? You weren’t trying to prove some other point, or—I don’t know, making a misguided attempt to repair your friendship with her?”

“No,” Kara answered flatly. “That’s not what it was.”

“And before this, you never…?” Alex trailed off. She tucked her hair behind her ears and shifted delicately. “You both never…did anything…?”

Kara stared at her with wide eyes. 

“No! Rao!” she exclaimed, feeling embarrassed. “It was just platonic. I thought there was…something under it, maybe, but I don’t know if that’s really what it was, and neither of us ever…”

“…explicitly brought it up?” Alex finished. She raised an eyebrow. “And then stopped talking altogether when you revealed your identity?”

Kara nodded, distraught, at a loss.

Alex looked at her with sympathy once more and reached for her hand. She took it between her own and held Kara’s eyes. “I always wanted you to have the space to privately process what happened with Lena when you told her—because it seemed like you needed it. There’s a lot I don’t know or understand about that, and all of this, and that’s fine. There’s a lot I think you’re trying to understand too, and I’m listening. No pressure to explain yourself. I’ll always be here to listen.”

She squeezed Kara’s hand. The blonde offered a weak smile, but remained silent with a confusing mess of thoughts. Alex tried again.

“Whatever happened in the past, I can see that what happened last night is weighing on you,” she offered, shrugging. “Maybe you can just go back and talk to her before this becomes more of a problem than it has to be.”

“I thought about that,” Kara murmured, staring at her lap. “I want to apologize…maybe even repair things, somehow. But I don’t know if that’s wise.”

Alex’s brows furrowed. “You think she’d have a bad reaction…”

Kara wanted to laugh at her sister’s wild understatement. 

_Wouldn’t you?_

“Yes,” she said quietly. She sighed and tried to focus. “But I think I’m more afraid _I’ll_ have a bad reaction. I know I had Red K in my system, and that’s part of what this is, but she made me feel even more out of control somehow, Alex…I can’t explain it.”

“She got to you,” the agent murmured. It hung there with a fine point before she went on. “I guess I’m just surprised by it, by this. I’ve never known you to be unhappy with Mon-El, or attracted to women.” 

“I haven’t even touched any of that yet,” Kara groaned, “but you know Kryptonians don’t really make a distinction about sexuality. It just is what it is, at least right now.”

“Okay,” Alex nodded with understanding, remembering. She hesitated. “Then…do you think you’ll say anything to Mon-El about what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Kara whispered, crumpling. “It was a fluke, right? It never has to happen again. I could apologize and then just stay away from Lena. Like usual. Maybe I can just tell Mon-El that the Red K messed me up, I did some things, and let that be the end of it…” 

As she rambled, her eyes searched Alex’s for an answer her sister didn’t have.

“Is that wrong? How much of this is my fault? Does it matter if I tell him just a part of the truth, and _not_ that I kissed someone else…?”

_A woman._

_Lena._

_And I wanted to._

“I wish I could tell you,” the redhead responded, her half-smile sad as she watched Kara struggle. “I think you need to figure out what choice can you live with. And take it one step at a time.”

Kara slumped in her chair, tortured, then shook her head. “I feel so confused.”

She took several gulps of now-lukewarm coffee and secretly wished to be scalded, to bear some kind of physical punishment instead of this mental anguish. Though Alex was trying to help, it seemed impossible to shake her disgust at herself and her guilt. 

She wanted to come clean and fix everything—both with Mon-El and Lena—but there were so many complicating factors. She needed more time.

“I’ll always be here for you, Kara,” Alex reassured her from across the table, breaking into her gloom. “Whatever you decide, you can talk to me. I love you. Not Mon-El, not Lena. I’m here for you first.”

“I love you too,” the blonde replied. Memories of Alex’s support crossed her mind as they sat together, and she tried to remember that this problem would pass, like all the others she had come to Alex with. “Thank you for listening. I’m going to try to figure this out.”

“I know you will, Kara. I have faith in you.”

 _Rao,_ Kara thought, _I hope that faith is well-placed._


	3. You Should Know By Now

**_// NATIONAL CITY NEWS //_ **

**_UPDATE ON POSSIBLE ALIEN HEALTH THREAT_ **

_The UN’s Extraterrestrial Refugee Task Force issued an update today stating that none of the alien refugees or detained humans in the Americas indicate signs of disease. Dr. Mirza Santos, the task force’s lead, noted that testing is still in progress and that all individuals affected by the escape pod crashes will continue to be held under careful observation. She refused to disclose any information regarding the genetic material of these individuals, citing privacy regulations._

_No new escape pods or landing craft have launched from orbit since Monday, when a crash outside Metropolis killed seven, left several hospitalized, and infected Supergirl with Red Kryptonite. Press correspondents for the White House said military warnings and diplomatic negotiations had helped prevent new launches, but stressed that requests for emergency landings continue to increase. An anonymous group of alien ship captains have reported shortages of food and supplies, outbreaks of disease, and surges in violence, including attempted mutinies._

_In response, a coalition of countries called for the organization of humanitarian aid and tangible action to stop the escalation of the crisis. Earlier today, Russian Federation officials stated they would submit pro-refugee resettlement resolutions to the UN's General Assembly and Security Council. Experts say a vote could occur within the next few days. Several private think tanks, multinational corporations, and charity foundations also declared their willingness to assist the UN in accommodating refugees. [See here.] Other groups and governments remained opposed to humanitarian aid. Many nationalist groups have called for aggressive measures to end the security risk and resource strain they say an influx of refugees would create. [Here.]_

_The White House declined to comment in detail. Days ago, the President reassured Americans that the U.S. military “stands ready” to defend its citizens, whether human or alien. So far, it is unclear how the U.S. would vote on refugee-related motions within the UN's Security Council, which would be legally binding if passed._

_In downtown National City, Supergirl spoke to the press about her stance. “My job is to protect Earth’s citizens and to assist refugees during this difficult time,” she said, "I will do everything I can to decrease tension between humans and aliens." After her exposure to a Red Kryptonite cache found in one of Monday’s escape pods, some citizens expressed fear that she…_

* * *

  


Kara stood atop the pointed edge of the Financial Tower as a fierce wind buffeted her cape, sending it swirling behind her.

She looked out over the peaceful skyline as it glimmered in the afternoon sun, marveling at how National City's urban jungle always seemed so tame from far away. Without her powers, the cityscape appeared quiet, deceptively still. _Shiny buildings, tiny cars, and clean, structured streets._ Only when she inspected any of these parts up close did they become complicated or disorderly.

The city was much like herself.

She stalled on the Tower’s sleek, triangular rooftop, needing space from the camera flashes, shouted questions, uncontrolled crowds, and deep-seated anxiety about the shiploads of refugees amassing in orbit. Lately she wore a mask of calm reassurance for the public, of course, but under it, and under all the questions facing Earth's citizens, her own deep-seated anxiety about Lena and Mon-El simmered. She could stand here all day and gain distance from the city, but there was no easy way to escape the guilt and apprehension inside her. If the orbital crisis exploded, she knew it would bury her under responsibilities, and she needed to make a decision. Soon. She could not let it fester and become even more of a distraction.

Taking a deep breath, she leapt from the roof and let herself enter free fall. The stories rushed by as air flowed around her suit. Something about this exercise often centered her, and true to form, not far from the ground, some resolution came to her at last. 

It was easier to apologize to someone who already hated her than to someone who loved her. 

She pulled up and forced herself to turn. Her shame about what she’d done was still present, leaden and nauseating, like a drag parachute trailing her as she flew. The familiar rows and columns of skyscrapers passed her much slower than usual. When she finally arrived at L Corp, she hovered outside Lena’s balcony, stalling some more. 

_This apology is simpler than trying to figure out what to tell Mon-El,_ she reminded herself. _Easy things first._

She grimaced as she noted the damage to the window. It was impressive. She’d impacted the left side, exactly where the door had been a few years ago. A gaping crystal maw greeted her now. It had already been several days since the incident; she wondered long the glass would take to replace. 

Lena was, of course, working at her desk. 

Kara inhaled deeply, steeling herself against the rush of memory and emotion the office evoked. She pulled herself forward before she could back out. 

Her boots clacked on contact with the balcony, and though her cape fluttered and snapped behind her, Lena didn’t show any signs of noticing. Kara stepped up to the remainder of the window and cautiously tapped on it. She cursed herself for the stupidity of trying to knock when a partially fractured piece of the pane broke free, splintering across the floor with an obnoxious noise.

“For fuck’s sake!” Lena cried, leaping to her feet in alarm. 

They made immediate eye contact. Lena’s face flashed into anger as she recognized Kara, and she started for the drawer.

“Wait,” Kara implored, raising her hands. Hope and contrition filtered through her voice. “Lena, wait. I just want to talk.”

“ _Talk?_ ” Lena snapped. Her eyes cut across the air, her fingers poised on the drawer handle. “I meant exactly what I said before—I don’t want to talk to you ever again. And you have _no_ right to be here after what you did a few nights ago.”

Her rage was palpable, like a dark energy crackling in the room, and Kara didn’t dare try to take another step. She swallowed weakly, nodding.

“I understand. You don't have to say anything, I just wanted to apologize. I was exposed to Red K that night. I remember what I did, what happened, and I feel—” her voice became hoarse, trembling the way it tended to as Kara Danvers, “—I feel awful. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

Lena’s chin rose. Her eyes burned like the middle of the sun. 

“You’re fucking right, I didn’t. And I don’t owe you a conversation, or an audience for your shitty apology. I really don’t care. You're wasting my time.”

This side of Lena was familiar, and not unexpected, but Kara still deflated. Some part of her had hoped it would not be like this. Maybe it was because she didn't have Red K in her system now, but the brunette's hostility seemed to land more sharply than it had the other night, like a stabbing instead of a bruising. It made Kara feel desperate.

It also made her feel...alive.

“Will you just give me a chance to explain?” she found herself asking quietly.

“What is there to _explain_?” Lena shot back, incredulous. “You trespassed on my property and put me in a situation so threatening I felt compelled to defend myself with a _knife_! And somehow you think an apology gives you license to trespass again!” 

Her hand tightened on the drawer handle, her stare brittle, forceful, with a scorching coldness. It contrasted sharply with what was happening in Kara. 

“I don’t want your excuses about Red K, I want you to leave,” Lena demanded.

Kara knew she _should_ leave. But she couldn’t quite move. 

The power and authority radiating from Lena were holding her there. They summoned the thing she hadn’t been able to explain to Alex, the thing feeding on their proximity and history, the thing Red K had dragged to the surface. The wild card. It hung in the air, magnetic, ineffable.

And as Kara looked at Lena and felt it, she had the unsettling realization that she was not so ready to give up. She could not simply leave and lose Lena again. Not like this. Not so easily.

“You’re right, there's no excuse,” the Kryptonian finally said, her words careful and sound, “Red K or not. I’m not here to justify myself.”

She felt a flicker of hope when her bait was not immediately rejected, but Lena still eyed her with outright contempt. Kara called up her courage and pressed on.

“I’m so ashamed of coming here and treating you like that. I know you felt unsafe and afraid, and I don't want to cause any more problems, I just wanted to make amends,” she tried, faltering, searching for what to say. She only needed to keep Lena from drawing the knife. “If there’s anything I can do to make it right, or anything I can do to earn your forgiveness…”

A tense silence lingered for several seconds. As Lena stood motionless, with a wide space between them, Kara fidgeted uncomfortably and looked down. She wished the brunette would invite her into the office. She’d been left standing on the threshold like a stranger.

_Which is probably what I am and what I deserve._

“Well,” Lena muttered, her voice hard and silken, “I was going to say you could make it right by taking a walk off the balcony...but then I thought of something better.” 

She said it so strangely that Kara looked up again. Lena's face was icy, almost unrecognizable. Her eyes had lost any trace of the warmth, loyalty, and affection Kara knew they were capable of. The woman standing across from her was a version of Lena she had not known and could not read. 

Her cape fluttered in the wind, then flattened against her calves and hamstrings like a frightened dog's ears.

“Anything. Name it.”

Lena’s eyes glittered.

Kara blinked and looked away again, trying to make sense of what was happening—how it could be that the more she dug into her own remorse, tried to fix her mistake, and fought to be here, the more dangerous this interaction started to feel.

To her surprise, Lena abandoned the drawer and its Kryptonite knife. She took a few unhurried steps forward. 

Kara was aware of her gaze being drawn back to the other woman against her will, lingering over the richness of her lips, the simplicity of her bun, the full shape of her body and its subtle, controlled movements. 

“Come here,” Lena instructed smoothly, breaking Kara’s trance with her eyes.

Kara swallowed and finally took a step into the office. 

Any relief she felt was short-lived; the shame of her actions followed her. She struggled to look Lena in the eye as she took another step forward. She focused instead on the brunette’s stony composure, her crisp outfit, and then the scent of expensive perfume. It burned in Kara’s lungs like a poison. The effect was disorienting, as if she were watching the office around them disintegrate and become dark, clammy, like a lair, and she shifted her eyes back to the secure, stable ground.

_Maybe I should have talked to Mon-El first._

“Look at me,” Lena murmured.

Kara’s uneasy gaze rose, meeting her former friend’s faintly amused one. A rush of terrible and intense feeling moved through her body. 

“I want you,” Lena lowered her voice, “to kiss me.”

Kara held down a fluttering of nausea. 

“What?” she whispered.

The other woman’s eyes twinkled. Her dark lips parted, quietly repeating the command.

“Kiss me.” 

Kara searched her face for the meaning of this, bewildered. 

“But…isn’t moving _past_ what happened the whole point of do—”

“Ithought making _amends_ was the point,” Lena cut in, spurning the Kryptonian’s fumbling resistance. “Is it about me and what I want, or is it just about you again, Kara?” 

Chastised and immediately feeling small, Kara nodded.

“Okay,” she breathed. She took a small step into Lena’s personal space and tried not to think about how unprepared she was. “Can I…do you want me to touch you?”

Inches away, a dash of Luthor depravity materialized in Lena’s expression.

“Just kiss me how you did the other night,” she said, her gaze steady, “and how you wanted to all of the nights before that.”

The words hit Kara like liquid nitrogen; she felt them freeze and burn under her skin. She stilled for a moment as old pain, embarrassment, and desire blistered in her, and she could not form an intelligent response.

“Did you think I wouldn’t be able to read you?” Lena wondered. She tilted her head as she watched Kara’s face. “You handed me a key. And if you give a Luthor a key, Kara, you should know by now that we’ll find out what it opens.” 

_I need to escape. Now._

“I’m married,” she blurted out, a shred of conscience and dignity landing on her like goose shit. “Please don’t ask me to do this. I can’t.”

Fear settled in her stomach when she saw Lena grin. 

“Well, I didn’t hear any objections a minute ago. And you said you’d do anything...”

“I—”

“… _but_ you’ve lied to me before, so maybe you’re lying again,” Lena quickly cut her off. “I think we’re about to find out.”

Kara tightened her jaw in the silence, feeling trapped. Lena continued to hold her gaze.

“How badly do you want my forgiveness?” she murmured.

The question was meant to be cruel, and Kara did not understand how it provoked this reaction in her, this arousal that made her feel like she did not know who she was.

She was a faithful wife and a good person—moral, responsible, selfless, dedicated to compassionate work. Her life was balanced. She wasn’t broken or searching. She hadn’t returned here to become a monster, she’d returned to make things right. And that didn’t mean sacrificing her integrity or dignity. 

She needed to think about Mon-El. She needed to draw a line and tell Lena that she didn’t want a forgiveness that would cost this much. And she needed to do it now, before a bit of nostalgia for the past corrupted her common sense.

_I want your forgiveness more than anything._

It was whispered aloud, in anguish. 

She couldn’t breathe. 

“Then prove it,” Lena replied. Her hand rose slowly and slid along the Kryptonian’s jawline, imparting power, supplying temptation. “Show me.”

Kara's gaze dropped to the side. Her own lie had destroyed them before, and Lena's demand amounted to lighting the ashes on fire. _Two wrongs._ And she’d never seen two wrongs make anything right. 

But as Lena’s hand lingered on her skin, warm and missed, she wanted to believe they could.

She turned and resolutely leaned in, satisfying Lena’s waiting lips, her fingers reaching for the CEO’s body. Every detail she had valiantly tried to push down and forget about their last kiss instantly resurfaced. She started to hold back, already feeling guilt, but it was in vain; Lena tugged on her utility belt, unwilling to let her get away with just a taste. 

Kara cursed Rao. She submitted to the other woman’s direction, and she felt Lena relax into the contact between their bodies. The brunette was soft, more fluid against Kara than she’d been the other night, less insistent. Their tongues mingled gradually. Kara realized Lena was trying to entice her to take the lead, and she hesitated. If they were doing this, Kara still hoped it could be controlled, and wanted her own decency and composure to remain intact.

Lena bit down lightly, holding her there, close, with her teeth. 

_Stop lying to me._

Caught and outmaneuvered, Kara crumbled. She kissed Lena more deeply, tasting black tea. The brunette was warm under her hands, and Lena's touch effortless, easy, almost as if she wanted to be here. Kara’s hands slid up the planes of her back experimentally. When Lena flexed into her, Kara felt the unmistakable press of breasts against her own. This deed between them was so illicit, so hushed, that she could hear the din of traffic outside and the wind whispering along the balcony as she held Lena in her arms.

_Just kiss me how you did the other night, and how you wanted to all of the nights before that._

Kara found herself pulled into a familiar, bittersweet vortex she could not escape. Feelings rose heatedly to her skin, breaking the last barrier of her control. She began to kiss and touch Lena with more than only physical intent—more slowly, more gently, communicating something she did not put words to, something she kept buried and hidden in her chest, an unmistakable red flag.

Ashamed, she broke away abruptly, turning her back on Lena and leaving her bereft. 

Lena stared after her, silhouetted against the afternoon sun streaming through the windows. 

Kara put her hands on her hips and tried to breathe, her heart hammering in the silence. She willed herself to concentrate on the neat shelves nailed to the office's walls. Lena’s previous decor had been replaced by minimalist artifacts, each one black and full of sharp angles. It was another moment before Kara could form a coherent thought. She turned to face the other woman again, waiting for an indication that she had fulfilled her request. 

The brunette’s eyes were clear and uncompromising.

“Is that…all you had to offer?”

Kara blinked at Lena in disbelief. She felt ill.

“I gave you too much already,” she replied tightly.

Lena folded her arms across herself. 

“Makes you feel violated, doesn’t it? Sharing yourself with someone who uses you, and has no intention of giving back?” she said, her tone Siberian. “At least I’m not _deceiving_ you about what I’m doing. That's more than I can say for you, Kara.”

Suddenly Kara understood.

“You haven’t let it go, have you?” she said softly. “You’re not just doing this because of what happened a few nights ago.”

“Of course not,” Lena snapped, “and I don’t believe for a second that _you_ subjected yourself to this because of one night, either.”

Kara was silent. She watched Lena step away and pour herself a glass of water. 

“Still, that night was vile. It was an appalling invasion of my space and safety,” the brunette went on, clutching her drink. “And if you actually think this one visit will make up for it, or give you an opening to bring up everything else, I wonder if you've ever really known me at all, Kara. Because even a little forgiveness is going to require more than this.”

Kara visibly balked.

“No. You know I can’t do this again, Lena, I’m not—”

“I think you can,” Lena countered, facing the blonde directly now. “I think you can and will do everything I ask of you, and without complaint. After all, _I’m_ not the one who screwed up. You did that.”

She said it with a sheen of wrath in her eyes, and Kara raised her eyebrows, stunned by her temerity. 

_What happened to you?_

“I think you need some perspective,” the blonde murmured. “Or maybe some help.”

“No,” Lena replied stiffly, with a flare of annoyance, “that’s what _you_ need. But I don’t expect you to understand that yet. You can show yourself out.”

Kara frowned at the swift dismissal, a wave of helplessness and confusion washing over her again. For a moment she had an impulse to stay, to continue fighting against being shut out, to keep pushing. This wasn’t over. It was _far_ from over. 

But she had already crossed several lines, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to test how much more damage she could do in one day.

She ground her teeth, then reluctantly turned back toward the splintered window.

Lena’s voice came from behind her. “The next time you want to stop by, Kara, be prepared to actually finish what you start. You can’t half-ass forgiveness.”

Kara’s steps were less than steady as she ducked back through the glass crater she’d created. She gathered herself and leapt, taking off into National City’s brilliant sky without looking back. She headed for what was left of the escape pod cleanup site in Metropolis—which would now be a welcome distraction. 

She went several miles before she realized she was flying in the wrong direction. 


	4. Definitely Seems Like Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: After last chapter, quick note: I dove into questionable choices with this story. I didn't put any character into a clear box, I tried to understand/express their humanity and tested limits. The difficult/provocative scenes were challenging to visualize, explore, and write, partly for that reason. I imagine this kind of "gray" story may also challenge you, and it may not be your preferred portrayal of the characters--so I just wanted to inform you that this is where we are headed.
> 
> A/N2: In this universe, Earth is one place, everybody is here, no multiverse. Superman still went to Argo.

**_// NATIONAL CITY NEWS //_ **

**_MET GEN DEATHS—CAUSE UNKNOWN_ **

**_LOCKDOWN AND QUARANTINE UNDERWAY_ **

**_MASS PROTESTS IN CENTRAL CITY AFTER TEEN KILLED_ **

_This afternoon, staff at Metropolis General confirmed the deaths of three healthcare workers and an alien refugee as the hospital began lockdown and quarantine procedures. Met Gen officials stated that all four individuals had been located on the isolation ward. They declined to comment on whether the deceased refugee carried an undetected infectious disease, assuring the public that autopsies are underway to determine causes of death. Lockdown and quarantine are expected to remain in effect indefinitely. Outside authorities rushed to seal off the area, and voluntary medical staff and law enforcement have been sent inside._

_Until today, Metropolis General’s isolation ward had been accepting human and alien individuals injured in recent escape pod crashes. One on-site worker, who spoke on condition of anonymity, said ward inspections revealed malfunctioning equipment that may have led to staff exposure. Police declined to comment on the possibility of a planned alien attack. Xenobiology experts have previously indicated that attacks require a biological agent that can bridge the differences between alien and DNA-based genetic material. By facilitating the creation of a hybrid genetic structure, such an agent could cause a chain reaction of progressive mutation. This process would eventually lead to death, especially if combined with an accelerant._

_In Central City, Oliver Harris, 16, was found dead near West Union Street this morning, the victim of multiple stab wounds and significant blunt force trauma. Police Chief Ethwasa Khumalo described the scene as gruesome and the attack as beyond comprehension, even for seasoned officers. She declined to give further details due to the crime’s graphic nature. A few hours ago, CCPD arrested an alien refugee as a suspect in the investigation._

_In response to these events, we are receiving reports that protests have erupted around the barricaded perimeter of Met Gen and in downtown Central City. Witnesses say protestors at the scene are carrying posters, clothing, and flags connected with the Humanity First movement. Humanity First has condemned assistance to alien refugees, especially through UN action, and recently publicized a set of demands. Their demands included tighter restrictions on alien immigration, the construction of an alien registry, and the right to refuse service to aliens. At Met Gen and in Central City, some of the messages scrawled on protest posters read_ Protect Our Own _,_ Human Lives Matter _,_ Justice for Lex Luthor _,_ Met Gen Blood Is On Your Hands _, and_ No Mercy for Violent Aliens _. On social media, protest organizers are calling for more demonstrations in other cities nationwide. Crowds and traffic are expected to increase tomorrow and Sunday._

_In global news, the UN’s Security Council called an emergency vote on a resolution regarding the allocation of humanitarian aid to alien refugees in orbit, which…_

  


* * *

  


Kara burst into their apartment that night without any concern for volume or restraint, having not, in fact, arrived at the remnants of the escape pod crash site; she had been diverted en route to Metropolis to help with crowd control. The door swung on its hinges and banged thunderously against the wall, startling Mon-El from his nap on the couch. She slammed it shut again and strode in.

“Hey,” the Daxamite called cautiously, poking his head up. If the door hadn’t already warned him, the irritated lines in Kara’s face would have. She headed straight for the kitchen and didn’t bother with a return greeting. He tried again. “Did something happen? What’s up?”

“Nothing,” she growled, whipping open another door, this one to the refrigerator, and in search of food. A quick scan turned up little except leftovers. She grunted and tried the freezer, wresting a pint of Mon-El’s vanilla ice cream from the shelf.

She stomped over to the couch with spoon in hand, and he raised an eyebrow. 

“Okay, yeah,” he drawled weakly, “definitely seems like nothing…”

“I just want to forget the past 24 hours,” Kara grumbled. She bit forcefully into her ice cream to avoid actually looking at him yet. “A kid killed in Central City, this situation with Met Gen, the crisis in orbit…” 

He wisely let her eat in peace for a few moments, and she focused on the bland comfort of vanilla ice cream. She’d have settled for anything to remove the traces of Lena in her mouth, but something cold, sweet, dull— _something opposite_ —that was preferable. 

“Right, but…isn’t all that just another day at the office?” Mon-El eventually commented, shifting to face her. “There’s always something. You don’t usually come home like this unless it's something big…”

_So what’s really going on?_

Kara still couldn’t look at him. She wanted to throw the ice cream carton. She nearly jumped up from the couch and walked right out of the apartment again. She didn’t want to lie to him, or feel like she _had_ to lie to him. She just didn’t know what to tell him.

She didn’t even know what to tell herself.

“I’ve just—” she finally swallowed down her angry disgust and paused to answer, “—I guess I’m starting to question who I am, Mon-El.”

His eyebrows rose. 

“Alright,” he said slowly. He leaned back on the couch, puzzled. “Where’d this come from?”

“I…did some things on Red K,” Kara started. She kept her eyes on the table, spoon in hand, with the vanilla ice cream melting. “And before you say that I was under the influence and that it wasn’t really me, _it was me_.”

“Okay,” Mon-El frowned. “You did some things, like…bad stuff?” 

She nodded, her face tightening as she heard the hesitation in his voice. Suddenly her outrage about the night was dissipating and morphing into fear. And more shame. 

“So you did some bad stuff on Red K, and now you don’t know if you can…believe in who you are because of that?”

“Exactly,” Kara nodded again, the word quiet. 

_He’s listening. He knows me. He understands._

She finally looked up at him. She saw the calm patience on his face, and had an urge to just tell him everything now, before he could guess or ask—tell him while he seemed open, so all of this could get straightened out and be done. 

He beat her to it. 

“Well, what did you do?”

She swallowed again, nervously now. The ice cream carton sat forgotten in her hand.

“I don’t know how to talk about it,” she whispered, her blue eyes flecked with pain, “it's not just what I did on Red K. I tried to fix that—stupidly—and it made things even worse. It's a mess now. I don’t know what I was thinking…”

When she glanced up again, she felt a rush of dismay. Somehow Mon-El was smiling.

“You take things more seriously than me,” he admitted, chuckling a bit, trying to comfort her. “I love that about you. It's just that...it makes me wonder if this situation is really as bad you think it is."

_That depends on your reaction._

Before she could bring herself to say it, Mon-El went on. 

"I say that because I’ve watched you hold yourself to such a high standard. You get frustrated at not being good enough, for making even small mistakes. I don't know a better person than you, Kara. And you’ve always worked it out...but you do have a lot going on right now. Maybe I shouldn't have downplayed it. It sounds like this Red K thing really got to you.” 

He kept smiling. She blinked, her mouth open in mid-protest. 

_How can he be so sure of my goodness? So trusting? So oblivious to the way I’m talking to him?_

He didn’t even seem curious about what she’d actually _done_. 

She rubbed her fingers anxiously on the metal spoon in her hand, the pint of vanilla in her other hand becoming ever more soft, deformed. She knew she owed him the truth—he had always been here for her, he was her husband, he was her constant. She had to try again.

“It’s…not that simple, Mon-El, I did something that isn’t just about me, it—it could impact other people, even you, us, our—”

“Listen, whatever happened, even if you did something bad," he soothed her gently, his eyes genuinely concerned, “cut yourself some slack. You were on Red K. I get it. And other people need to understand that too, you know?”

She felt suffocated. 

And then angry at his inability to hear her, which she pushed down after a moment. This whole situation was her own fault. He had no idea it had anything to do with him. It was _her_ problem that she felt so guilty and distressed and angry; _she_ was the one who’d kissed someone else. 

Twice.

Kara wavered as she sat on their couch, her tongue aching, the silence lengthening. She stared wretchedly at Mon-El.

In a flash, she saw Lena standing just behind him, waiting, with dark eyes. 

_After all,_ I’m _not the one who screwed up. You did that._

She blinked the intrusive image away, baffled and pained. She wanted so badly for guilt to be the driving force of this conversation. She believed it should be. She deserved guilt, and she felt it, complied with it. But it wasn’t guilt that owned her or this conversation—it was terror.

Her terror of what a confession to Mon-El would do.

“How’s the ice cream?” he asked, benign. 

Kara nearly choked. 

“It’s…good. It’s fine,” she plastered a fake smile on her face, “just melted…”

The window of opportunity was disintegrating and falling through her fingers, out of her control.

“I’m pretty sure you can get some Good Person points back by sharing,” he joked, his eyebrows waggling. 

Kara gave an obligatory laugh, and it came out with a little too much force. She dipped the spoon into her carton and came up with a huge glob, guiding it toward him. He smiled as he struggled to get it into his mouth. When he swallowed, he moved toward her, pressing his mouth to hers and transferring the sticky leftovers to her lips.

It was supposed to be cute and goofy, and she wanted it to be normal. She felt Mon-El’s cool tongue, she tasted the vanilla, and she reacted to the rough texture of his lips, but somewhere in her mind’s eye she was kissing her ex-best friend again, lost, hung up on a ship that had long since sailed.

She was unable to handle another second of the ugliness consuming her.

“Rao, you know what?” she broke it off, wincing at the surprise in his face. “I just realized I was supposed to meet Alex. Movie night.”

“Oh—okay,” he said. He only half-managed to hide his disappointment, and leaned away from her reluctantly. “I'll see you later, then. You should go, have fun. Stop worrying.” 

He smiled again, teasing.

Kara's own smile was feeble.

“I’ll try." 

  


* * *

  


When she got to Alex’s apartment, she gave a few quick knocks and paced lightly as she waited, wondering how long it would take to calm down enough to tell her sister what had happened.

Alex always checked the peephole; her eyes were already wide when she opened the door. 

“Kara, I didn’t know you were co—”

“I know, I should have texted, I just needed somewhere to go and settle down,” Kara burst out. Her eyes were full of the type of panic reserved for Very Bad Situations, and Alex let her in without another word. 

She gratefully stepped inside. It was warm and smelled like pie, with muted lighting that reminded her of candlelight. Broad rectangular windows opened the apartment up to the night sky. Although the panes had been dimmed, Kara could make out the usual mix of glitter and neon embedded across National City’s skyline. The furniture in the place was elegant and comfortable. Several paintings lay scattered around the walls, most filled with vibrant colors and bold lines. They were interspersed with framed photos of past adventures.

Kara quickly realized they weren’t alone.

“Maggie, hey—Rao, I’m so sorry, I don’t want to intrude on your ni—” 

“Stop it,” the detective warned her, smiling from the kitchen, “you’re not intruding on anything, Kara. You know better than that.”

Alex came up from behind and put an arm around Kara’s shoulders. “We were just having a quiet night in. You look like you either want to sit down and talk, or stuff your face and watch a movie instead of talking.”

“Um…” Kara went quiet for a moment, still half-looking around to calm herself. She’d loved this place ever since the two of them moved into it a few years ago, and now it was familiar, like home.

“I think I need to talk,” she said at last.

Maggie finished placing dishes in the kitchen cabinets and gestured toward the door. “Do you need me to leave? I don’t want you to feel like you have to share with me if it’s really private.”

“Of course not,” Kara shook her head right away. “Don’t be ridiculous. Stay. I could use another perspective.”

She placed her hand over the one Alex had around her shoulder as they both moved toward the couch. 

“Drinks?” Maggie asked. Both women accepted, and she came around with a set of glasses to join them and settle in.

The silence also settled in, rather noticeably, and Alex gave Kara a look.

“ _So_ …” 

“I think I messed up,” Kara started immediately—then just as immediately snatched a sip of her water, collecting herself first. She pinched her face and turned to Maggie. “On the _incredibly_ unlikely off-chance that Alex didn't already tell you, I ran into Lena Luthor while I was infected with Red K...and by _ran into_ , I mean I crashed through L Corp’s balcony window.”

Maggie pressed her lips together in a poor attempt to conceal a smile. “I might have heard something about it…”

Her eyes were kind, though, and Alex put a hand on Kara’s knee. “She knows there was a kiss and a knife involved, and that you were confused and upset over it, but didn’t necessarily, you know…hate what happened.”

Kara nodded, feeling embarrassment rise to her cheeks already. She put her water down.

“So I went back to L Corp,” she went on, staring at her own fingers and fidgeting. “I knew she might get angry and stop speaking to me all over again, but I felt terrible about what I did. I had to go back to apologize and try to make it right.”

Alex sipped at her wine. Maggie paid close attention on the other side of Kara. The apartment was quiet—no noise from neighbors, no stomping in the hall, and no honking or sirens from the city. Kara felt the presence of Alex and Maggie, felt them listening intently, waiting for the details, and her anxiety rose again. 

“It didn’t go as planned, did it?” Maggie prodded gently. 

Kara heaved a sigh in response and looked up at the ceiling. Her frustration came out in her voice. “It was supposed to be simple. I was trying to do the right thing. And then it just got…more complicated.”

Alex and Maggie exchanged a glance. Alex was the one to speak. 

“Meaning?”

Kara clenched her jaw, trying to tamp down a sickening feeling.

“Some stuff transpired,” she mumbled vaguely.

There was a minor but distinct pause.

“I'm not surprised,” Maggie put in, her smile jaunty, “you two always did have a thing...”

Kara was taken aback. “What thing? What is that supposed to mea—”

“Wait, does _some stuff_ mean sex?” Alex interrupted, instantly an older sister. “Did you have sex with her, Kara?”

Heat rose to Kara’s face. 

“What? No!” she insisted, shaking her head at them both in exasperation. “We kissed—again. No knife this time. And no Red K. And kissing isn’t even what I’m focused on, I just want to figure out why this is happening, what I’m… _doing_ …” 

At the note of helplessness tacked onto the word, sympathy melted into Maggie’s expression. Alex threw her free arm around Kara once more and squeezed her fiercely. 

“I'm so confused,” Kara groaned, closing her eyes. “It feels like I’m doing the right thing and the wrong thing at the same time when I’m with her.

“Kissing a woman can do that to you,” Alex murmured. “Especially if you find out you like it.” 

Maggie grinned over at her. Sandwiched between them, Kara almost rolled her eyes.

“Okay, I _wish_ Lena being a woman was the most problematic part of this.”

Maggie turned thoughtful. “You know, I see this kind of reaction when I do questioning,” she offered. “People don’t always have time to deal with intense emotions in the middle of a situation, and they have to act without a lot of clarity. Consequences that seem really obvious in retrospect weren’t so obvious to them at the time.”

“Exactly,” Kara nodded. “I went in with a principled goal, then completely screwed it up under pressure. And I should tell Mon-El, but because I’m apparently terrible at telling people hard things, I haven’t.”

Alex narrowed her eyes. “Hold on, back up. Did you _enjoy_ the kiss?”

“The kiss itself?” Kara repeated, hesitating. She thought the answer was already clear, and didn't want to say it. “I—of course I did. At first.”

“So part of you did, like last time,” Alex pointed out softly. “Did _she_ enjoy it?”

“She—she participated, but it doesn’t matter, because I feel ashamed about it, Alex,” Kara protested. She carefully avoided any mention of the circumstances under which they had kissed. “I just want to fix this.”

Ever the detective, Maggie frowned.

“What’s shameful about it? Was it a situation where you pushed her again?" the brunette wondered, watching Kara with interest. "Is that what you mean when you say she just participated?”

“No, thank Rao,” Kara replied, _she pushed me._

“Then is it the infidelity?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Kara emphasized, becoming more animated. “I’ve loved Mon-El for years. I’ve watched him learn and mature into a good man. He hasn’t done anything wrong,” she insisted, her brows knitting together in agitation. “You know things aren't as exciting after you're together for a certain amount of years...but what would it be like if one of you came home and didn’t tell the other about kissing someone and _not regretting it_? Would you excuse that? Would you work through it?”

Alex and Maggie looked at each other for some time, speaking wordlessly to each other.

“I see your point—I think we both do. We’re not trying to disregard your marriage,” Alex said quietly, “we’re trying to help you figure this out. We’re your family, not your jury. We just want to understand and support you." She rested her cheek on Kara’s shoulder, thinking. “If you’re so ashamed, so disgusted by this thing with Lena…then what’s keeping you stuck in it?” 

Kara was silent, trying to formulate the words to make her sister understand the spell Lena cast, the importance of their past friendship, her own fear of failing and somehow losing Lena again. 

Alex shifted to look at her directly and seriously. “Kara, if you’re stuck in it because a part of you also _liked_ it, because she made you feel something completely different than what you’re used to…then do you think it _might_ be possible that some part of you feels more fulfilled with her than with Mon-El?”

Pain and anger erupted in Kara. 

“I think that’s ridiculous,” she argued, feeling offended. “How are we jumping from two kisses to questioning my marriage because it feels different? Of course it’s going to feel different. What Lena and I “have” isn’t loving or committed or healthy in any way,” she insisted, sidestepping exactly how messy things were, “we have serious baggage. Thinking about being with her, much less some part of me feeling _more_ _fulfilled_ with her, is irrelevant. I love Mon-El.”

Maggie nodded. 

“And if you weren’t married, would you risk finding out what could happen with Lena?” she asked calmly.

“It was only a kiss!” Kara exclaimed, frustrated. She ran her fingers through her hair, then heatedly sprang up from the couch to pace. “This is _insane._ Why are we even considering this?”

“You say it was only a kiss, Kara,” Maggie stayed with her, leaning back against the couch, “and I think you believe it, but if that were true, I don’t think you’d be having this crisis and these emotions. To be honest with you, it doesn’t sound like it was only a kiss.”

At her wit’s end, the hero walked over the expansive windows of the apartment. She gazed at the city as she mulled over Maggie’s words. 

A deep revulsion at herself rose, an agony unlike any she had felt in a long time. Deep down she knew the detective was right. Maggie had managed to pinpoint what was really so insane about this situation: that she could kiss Lena Luthor, and feel enough in that mere kiss— _while the woman was trying to hurt her_ —to maybe start doubting her entire marriage. 

What the hell was wrong with her?

She felt tears prick at her eyes like hot needles. 

Alex broke into her sister’s brooding silence. “Maybe this is optimistic…but if you talk to him, Mon-El might be understanding. Maybe you both could work through what’s happening. Couples go through rough patches all the time. It wouldn’t be called _commitment_ if it was easy…” 

But Kara didn’t turn around; she didn’t even hear Alex.

“Who am I?” she asked, her voice cracking as she faced the window. Several tears spilled, one after the other, down her cheeks. “This is basic decency. It’s being faithful and committed and honest. Why am I having this problem? Why is this happening?”

“Kara,” Alex said, leaping from the couch to go to her sister. She hugged Kara again, this time harder, and Kara tried to relax into her arms. Alex clung to her tightly. Her fingers rose to wipe her sister’s tears.

“Kara, you’re allowed to choose. You’re allowed to marry someone and then realize things have changed, or you’ve changed, and you’re not as happy as you thought. It doesn’t make you a failure. Or you’re allowed to never speak to or see Lena again if it’s going to hurt you this much. It doesn’t make you a bad person, it just means you’re protecting yourself and your marriage. You don’t have to be stuck. Talk to us. Talk to Mon-El. I think all of us just want you to be happy.”

“I agree,” Maggie said softly from the couch, watching them. Her eyes were bright. “If you want it to work, talk about it with Mon-El. Be honest and see what he says.”

Kara almost laughed. They said it so simply, as if it would be like talking over a minor dispute with a Catco colleague instead of potentially upending her whole life. As if it wouldn’t challenge everything she and Mon-El had built together in the past few years. 

All for a woman who, at the moment, cared about as much for Kara as she cared for someone's spit on her shoe.

“What if this all means absolutely nothing?” she whispered, biting down a small panic attack at the thought of so much emotional damage for no reason at all. “What if I’m honest with both of them…and I lose both of them while I’m trying to figure this out?” 

Alex squeezed her and laid her head on the Kryptonian’s shoulder.

“There are always what ifs, but one thing’s for sure,” she murmured. “You’ll always have us, Kara.”


	5. This Coward Standing Here

Even if she wanted to, Kara was beginning to feel certain she'd never come to a place of clarity. As the crises around her intensified, she found herself with little time and even less energy to deal with personal problems, and she spent her next day doing little except working. The emotional knot in her chest stubbornly remained. When she woke up on Sunday morning, she told Mon-El she needed some time to think, and gave herself permission to take a break.

She set out for the streets. Weekend mornings in National City always reminded her of a slow-moving river—one with a steady flow of hungover revelers and sleepy tourists floating through the streets, scavenging for food or coffee. Kara strolled aimlessly. She watched as a few people ducked into the gothic architecture of old churches, some disappeared down stairs to subway stations, and others waited in lines outside of popular brunch joints. Amid mundane small talk and elegant designer branding, she searched for the comfort she’d always associated with everyday people. Like clarity, however, it was elusive, and avoided her.

She was grudgingly aware that she’d once found this comfort with Lena. She'd never needed to wander around before; their interviews, their lunches, and their late-night chats had all given Kara a place to go, and a sense of peace and rest. She'd found hope in sticking together and believing in each other. She'd felt inspired and energized by it. And when she looked back on it now, she realized that so much of her life then had seemed free, happy...whole.

Maybe she'd been more _fulfilled_. Alex’s annoying word stuck with her, and she sighed darkly. 

_I need to figure this out._

But food first.

She automatically headed through Chinatown, letting her stomach guide her to various restaurants along the way. She scanned several posted menus for her beloved potstickers, Japanese _gyoza_ , or Korean _mandu_ —anything that would satisfy her eternal craving for dumplings. Eventually she passed an open storefront strung with bright lights. They flashed randomly, in different colors, catching her eye. She glanced inside the small space, where a weathered Korean man stood by a series of large, steaming silver pots. 

Kara halted. An overhead sign read 왕만두, and underneath that, in English, “King-Size Dumpling.” 

If that wasn’t the epitome of what she was looking for, she didn’t know what was. 

She observed as the man opened one of the wide, circular containers and scrutinized a tray. It was stocked with several mammoth dumplings, all soft, plump. One would easily fill her whole hand. 

_Bingo._ Kara noted the options: red bean, kimchi, and beef. It only took her a second of consideration before she smiled, stepped up, and asked for one of each.

The man dubiously eyed her petite frame. For a moment she thought he might question her, but he shrugged, then quickly wrapped one of each in wax paper as Kara dug around for the correct amount of money. She took the warm packages into her arms without batting an eye. Thanking him, she bit happily into the first dumpling and went on her way.

That dumpling was already finished by the time she found a park on the edge of the neighborhood. As she flopped down on an ornate bench, she took a look around the modest square, trying to settle herself. An old tree rose from the middle of the area. Its branches sprawled up and out like knobby, elongated fingers, and underneath them lay a series of twisted play structures. The glitzy beginnings of the financial district sat a few streets over, visible atop a row of apartments and stores to her right. In contrast, the left side of the park featured a simple stone fountain, which bubbled quietly. A bronze statue of an archer stood guard nearby. Kara watched as several women wearing visors and vibrant clothing power-walked past it, following a path that encircled the entire park. Aside from them, the space was peaceful and empty.

She aspired to be the same, but as long as this paralyzing question about how to proceed with Lena remained on her mind, she felt heavy and out of sorts, like a pot boiling over. It was exhausting. The questions only circled in her head. Was she doing this for forgiveness? Doing it because she didn't want to lose Lena entirely? Was she doing it because she felt something for Lena? And was that real, could it be real, or was it based on someone and something that no longer existed? Was it all of the above? Did the reason for her actions matter, did it justify anything?

Was she trying to destroy her life? And if so, _what for_?

Her questions made her feel sick. She might have food, solitude, and a change of scenery now, but her internal compass was still a tangled, muddy lump.

As she opened the second dumpling, inhaling the scent of dough and beef, a low bell rang out. Its tone resounded across the air, rich in timbre. She listened to it instinctively. It rang again, and then again, and again, more times than she could count, each ring distinct but blending into the next, cutting through her thoughts. 

Her hands froze on the crinkled wax paper as she listened, concentrating. She felt the remnants of sweet red bean in her mouth. The floral scent of the plants nearby became sharper, the colors around her more distinct. The smooth, hard bench pressed at her back and hamstrings. She became absorbed in the serene sound of the bell amidst the quiet of the park. It rang over and over, and when the last echo faded from the air, she could hear herself breathing. Her chest had become a little lighter. Her anxiety and confusion lingered a little further away than before. She felt a sense of stillness. 

She bit into her beef dumpling with a sense of calm and closed her eyes at the savory and sweet flavors. 

_This is simple._

After a moment she located the probable source of the bell. A small Buddhist temple sat near the corner of the park, its doors left open to the cool, fresh air. The sound of chanting reached her as she chewed. She could not make out the words, but heard them coalesce into a stable hum, with tonal changes unlike any music she had heard before…not on Earth. 

A rogue image of Krypton flashed before her eyes, and she was at once viscerally, acutely aware of a past life, another time—that irreversible loss nestled deep in her heart. 

Again, the deaths of people she had known and the ingrained heartache of her heritage stabbed at her. She allowed the images, lost voices, and a river of feelings to come as she sat on the bench. Her memories triggered a deeper pain and loneliness that was familiar, permanent, and she did not resist it. She held her grief tenderly. She honored her foundation, knowing it could never be erased or changed, regardless of how normal and human she looked.

_I am not one of these people._

The lush landscape of the park blurred as Kara wiped at her eyes, moved by something she hadn’t felt this intensely in a long time. Maybe it was Chinatown; she was a visitor here, and others knew her exactly as she was: a stranger, a racial and cultural foreigner. Instead of always being the hidden immigrant, she could finally exist as a visible alien. 

Either way, she was not and could never be home. The truth was as honest and freeing as it was lonely and profoundly confining. She tried to soften it by remembering her home and family here—all the people who supported and loved her, everyone she was so grateful for—and then realized something else. 

_Even on Earth, my experience of home has been scarred by grief I’ve struggled to bear._

Like the bell, it was simple and just so, and the sense of rightness she’d been seeking arose without warning. 

With a burst of energy, she shoved as much of the kimchi dumpling into her mouth as she could. Its strong, fermented spice propelled her off the bench. She oriented herself, began walking, and ducked into an empty alley to change into her suit.

There was someone here on Earth who had always made her feel like she wasn’t so alone, like she belonged somewhere, like she could still have a piece of home. Whatever was happening, she no longer wanted to cast that aside. She had accepted this loss long enough. She was already in hot water. And she couldn't answer any of her questions—whether her feelings were real, whether she could get those happy, bygone days back—if she stopped talking to Lena. She needed to go back. She felt sure the answers would come if she could just endure Lena's wrath a little longer.

  


* * *

  


National City's resident Luthor didn’t seem surprised in the least when Kara arrived for another round. She sat gamely on her office couch, its pristine white leather long ago replaced by an imposing black, her limbs stretched comfortably across it. With her legs crossed and her arms draped across its back, she appeared quite...content.

Kara hung in mid-air outside the balcony, startled to find that every window had been removed. Her cape fell loosely from her shoulders, undisturbed by the slight wind, and she tried to channel its stillness as she looked into the office. 

They stared at one another for a few seconds. Kara felt the challenge in Lena's gaze, and she swallowed before slowly touching down and crossing through to the interior. She felt the warmth of sunlight at her back. It framed her figure as she walked in, giving her body a striking, halo-like radiance.

Lena stood briskly.

“Well, that didn’t take long,” she commented, her expression filling with disdain. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or disgusted.”

Kara held her eye. Her armored shoes clicked on the floor as she approached the couch.

“I'd pick flattered,” she said, sincere. “I'm here because I realized what was really important to me.”

Lena snorted at the blonde. Her gaze was shrewd.

“Forgive my surprise. I had no idea adultery was important to you.” 

Kara came to a stop on the other side of the sleek black coffee table. 

“It isn’t. I’m here for our friendship,” she replied, her voice solid and sure. “I'm here because I remember how important you were to me, and how important it was for you to do what was right. And I realized I’m done accepting th—”

“Yes, I remember quite clearly how important it was for you to believe we were good people and good friends,” Lena muttered derisively, cutting off the budding speech before it could turn into one of Kara's full-blown inspirational pleas. Her eyes became harder. “I also remember the hypocrisy of it. Speaking of being a good person, does your husband—what’s his name? Mike? Or is it Mon-El?” 

Kara’s face changed. Lena’s smile was tiny and cold. 

“Yes, I found out who you married. Does he know you’re here?”

Kara hesitated to verbalize the answer, which was revealing enough. A full-on smile crept across Lena's lips.

“I didn’t think so,” she murmured, crossing her arms. “You wouldn’t jeopardize all that…safety.”

Kara blinked in confusion, then offense, as she tried to catch up to Lena’s attack. 

“Safety?” she repeated.

“I never knew him that well, of course,” the brunette ignored the question, “but I’m told he’s very… _reliable_. I’ve been wondering if his reliability—maybe his reliable _mediocrity_ —is responsible for turning you into this coward standing here.”

Kara felt an affronted, hurt exhale leave her lungs, and realized Lena had hit a nerve. She swallowed.

“Say what you want about me...but leave Mon-El out of this. He doesn’t deserve it.” 

“Doesn’t he?” Lena asked, lightly vindictive. She shrugged. “I’m trying to model honesty for you, Kara. I know it’s unfamiliar to you.”

Kara took a breath, trying to recall her earlier determination to withstand Lena's wrath and reach her. She stood tall.

“I came here in good faith,” she stated. “I’m not going to do this with you.”

Lena stepped around the table to bring herself face-to-face with the Kryptonian. She remained completely poised. 

“No, you came here in denial,” she hissed, close enough that Kara could have touched her, “with some deluded idea that we could talk this out. I know you, Kara. I know you were going to rehash the past and how great it was. As if we could just forget about what you’ve done,” she said, shaking her head. “Despite my perfect clarity last time, you still think you can change my mind, so let me disabuse you of that idea and remind you of the rules here.” 

She stared confidently into Kara’s blue eyes.

“If you don’t like what I have to say, you’re free to go. You just have to accept what it will cost you.”

Kara felt agitation throughout her body. It clawed at her, intensifying as they stood there, as she searched Lena’s eyes with anguish. This didn’t feel any easier the second time.

The pale eyes across from hers were solid, unmoving, and Kara almost felt bitter. She inhaled, trying to touch that feeling earlier, that feeling of groundedness underneath the chaos spinning around her. She drew earnestly from it. She let it fill her, let it distill everything inside of her until only the most important essence remained, and exhaled. 

“I’m not leaving,” she replied quietly.

Lena’s eyebrows rose.

“Adultery it is, then.”

She smirked as she walked back to the desk, brushing past the Kryptonian’s arm. Kara stared at the wall above the couch and clenched her jaw. Her fingers fidgeted, her teeth gnawing at the inside of her cheek while she prepared herself.

“What did you _eat_ , by the way?”

Kara couldn’t tell if it was a joke, a judgment, or a question about what she was going to taste if her tongue strayed into Kara’s mouth again.

“Red bean, beef, and kimchi dumplings,” she answered, feeling self-conscious. She turned back to the brunette. “I wasn’t planning on being here.”

“I’m sure,” Lena murmured. She stood with one hand on the desk and the other on her hip. “Well, your timing is fortunate. I have a project to complete, and I can’t think of anyone more fitting than you to help me with it.”

She ignored the unease in Kara’s expression and gestured to the space where the Kryptonian had entered her office. Air and sunlight flooded through the empty gaps in the framework, throwing the office into warm, open tones.

“Let’s start with your opinion. Do you think I should just reinstall my windowpanes,” Lena asked, her eyes boring into Kara’s, “or do you think I should also install a door?”

A small frown spread across Kara’s forehead.

“I think it’s up to you what you do with your office,” she deflected.

Lena narrowed her eyes. “See, this is what I was talking about. Don’t be a coward, just tell me what you want. Window or door?” 

Kara let the silence go on for a few more seconds. She looked down.

“Door.”

“That wasn't so hard,” Lena said, coming around the desk. She pointed toward the TV. “And I had a feeling you'd say that...so I designed one and had it brought up. Would you bring it to the frame?”

Kara obediently crossed the room, Lena’s gaze trailing her. She bent and spread her arms, grasping the outer edges of the glass door, lifting with care. She walked back. As she passed Lena and hefted the door to the balcony, she was greeted with an expansive view of National City.

“Hold it there,” the brunette directed, now behind her. She took a couple of steps back from the desk. “Let me just assess...”

As Lena studied the bearing and craftsmanship of the door as it might look within the frame, Kara held still. She'd planted her feet shoulder-width apart, her vibrant, clean shoes solidly gripping the floor. Her calf and arm muscles bunched into her compression suit, and the crimson cape flapped lightly in the wind, rippling upward until she could feel it under her curls. She kept her arms extended, stable and slender, cloaked in deep blue, with her fingers wrapped gently around the door’s edges. 

She didn’t dare look back. Her entire body was stretched across the glass, open to the city. Something about it felt oddly vulnerable, and she waited for an indication that she could put the door down.

Instead she heard Lena approach. The brunette drew close to her, near her cascading hair, behind and slightly to the left. 

“It needs a few adjustments…” Lena commented quietly.

Uncomfortable, Kara shifted, her eyes still on the skyline. 

“Adjustments?”

Lena's left hand rose. The compression suit was rugged but thin, and Kara immediately felt her palm. It slipped between her hip and ribs, against her side, light, sure, and warm.

“To the right,” Lena murmured, her eyes flickering up as she pressed.

Kara’s jaw flexed. She adjusted a step. 

The brunette moved with her. Her hand remained where it was as she reevaluated. Kara tried to relax. After moment she felt Lena lean in, close to her ear, and she shut her eyes.

“Actually, my mistake,” Lena whispered, her tone indicating it was anything but, “that’s not quite right either…” 

Kara felt the other palm join softly on her suit. She exhaled tightly.

“…come back just a little.” 

Kara held the door steady as she shifted back an inch, her hair grazing Lena’s cheek. She could hear both of them breathe in the silence. 

“More,” Lena whispered again, her voice smooth and her smile devious, “don’t stop…”

Kara opened her eyes to focus on anything else. 

“More…so close…”

She tried to breathe as her ex-best friend’s hands tightened on her.

“Yes, right there,” Lena finally murmured, “that’s exactly how I want it.”

Kara struggled with swallowing.

To her relief, the brunette leaned away after a moment and lifted her left hand. Her fingers touched Kara’s shoulder, then trailed along the muscles of her tricep, forearm, and wrist. They came to rest, pointedly, on the blonde’s knuckles. 

Still gripping the edge of the door, Kara glanced up. She noticed it immediately.

A small border had been etched in. The rays of light striking the glass made it visible—and when she studied it more carefully, her mouth opened in surprise.

“Is that…Kryptonese?” Kara breathed, too astonished to hold the question back. 

“One of the special touches I added,” Lena answered. Satisfaction colored her expression as she admired the script. “I don’t need to tell you what I put there.”

Indeed, Kara could read it. It was one word. Repeated over and over again.

_Honesty._

“I thought it might be a more effective reminder if it was written in your native language,” Lena explained, her voice curt. She let her hand fall and stepped away from Kara at last. “I hope you think about it when you’re passing by. And the door looks good; you can put it back where it was.”

Caught up in thoughts of her home again, Kara took an extra second to turn away. She walked across the room and set the door down gingerly. When she straightened, she found Lena standing at her desk, arms crossed.

“Since it seems you misunderstood me before, let me state this unequivocally,” the brunette said. “I will put that door in, but the only reason you may be here, _ever_ , is for my forgiveness. You may _not_ come here to talk it out, to convince me it can be different, or to give me excuses. I don’t want to hear speeches. You’re here to atone, and you atone by doing what I ask. Don’t waste my time.”

Kara saw that she was serious and nodded, though it was strained. 

“Understood.”

Lena eyed her, unconvinced. 

“We’ll see if that’s true. Meanwhile, I’ll enjoy walking on my balcony again,” she replied. She strode toward the Kryptonian, who was still standing near the wall. “Shall we continue?”

Kara felt a sinking feeling. _Of course there's more._

"Whatever you need."

Lena stopped just in front of her. “Good,” she murmured. "Stay right there."

Kara obeyed, feeling as if she were under inspection while the other woman overtly studied her. The brunette’s gaze traveled from her sheathed crimson shoes to her lithe, defined calves and thighs, noting the suit’s armor through the hips. Her eyes moved upward to the golden utility belt around her waist, then scaled up her abs until they reached the _S_ emblazoned across her chest.

Eyes locked to it, Lena stepped toward Kara. She placed her hand on the raised contours of the crest, slowly tracing the outlines of the House of El. They were unbroken, even. Clean. Kara’s chest rose and fell beneath her palm, moving under the delicate arches of her fingers as she inspected the symbol. 

Though Lena’s expression remained haughty and closed, she did not hide her contempt. Her eyes climbed further, to the other woman’s collarbone, and her fingertips followed—touching the suit, the bone, as if remembering where there had once been exposed skin. Then her hand rose past Kara’s sleek collar and found it. She let her fingers idle right below the Kryptonian’s jaw. 

Kara’s breathing had become rigid, and more so with every second she was forced to endure the touch.

Lena met her eyes. Her hand remained on the Kryptonian's throat. 

“What are you trying to do?” Kara asked tightly. 

Lena didn't answer. She lifted both hands to the sides of Kara’s face, gathering the mess of golden hair spilling over her shoulders. She began pulling it back carefully with her fingers, and it took Kara a moment to realize she was drawing it into a ponytail. The silence became painful. Distressed, Kara searched for something to say as Lena's fingers lingered in her hair, the other woman's eyes analyzing her face. All she could think about was the first time she'd seen the same kind of look on someone else's face.

She looked down uncomfortably. “Cat Grant tried to imagine it too...” 

If Lena was surprised by the mention of the older woman, she didn't show it. 

“Did you lie to her as well?”

Kara blinked a few times. “Yes,” she admitted, her voice low, betraying a depth of meaning in the memory. “Many times..." 

_You weren't the only one._

“Well,” Lena let her hair fall abruptly, “I guess that makes you an adulterer _and_ a serial liar.”

Her eyes passed downward, over the tough material of the compression suit. She reached for Kara’s left hand. The wedding band featured prominently on her ring finger: obsidian, simple, and polished. Kara knew the precise composition of the alloy. It was flecked with streaks of oranges and yellows, brilliant in the light, without any constellation of expensive stones embedded in it. She hadn’t chosen this ring for vanity. She’d wanted something durable, something that could stand up to what she did every day.

“Pretty,” Lena remarked, admiring it. “Too bad it's a bit...tarnished…”

Her fingertips casually explored the rest of Kara's hand, tracing along her fingers, knuckles, wrist. Kara felt her touch like a slow, cold burn, and kept her mouth shut. Soon the brunette returned to and lingered pointedly on the metal trapped around her finger, her caress light. When her gaze finally rose to Kara’s face again, Kara wished it was possible to look away—to hide the private hell in her eyes.

“Kiss me again,” Lena said, releasing her hand, “and this time, don’t be so quick to stop.”

Kara’s chest rose and fell as her struggle broke openly across her face, igniting in her eyes. _Whatever it takes,_ she reminded herself. She stepped toward Lena and brought them almost nose to nose. Her expression flickered with inflections of pain, anger, and desire. 

Lena returned her gaze fearlessly, daring Kara to let them out. 

“Your morality is a pathetic, fabricated shield,” the brunette whispered. “We both know you’re a hypocrite, Kara. Kiss me.”

Kara leaned into her slowly, desperate for Lena to consider her deep torment as their lips met again. That torment ran beneath more than this particular moment, ran beneath a sorrow she had submerged for years—and the energy stored in it was not only reawakening now, but ionizing, becoming unstable, becoming violent. 

Lena found herself gripped by Kara's hands and driven backwards until she was thrust into a column along the window.

This time the deed was not silent, not even hushed; this was rougher and the friction more audible. Lena remained pinned, confined to the column at her back by a body of tautened muscle. She offered no objection. Their lips tangled spiritedly, sensually, their mouths lit by the afternoon sun. Kara's hands drifted up Lena’s ribs and held her there. She kissed with urgency, but urgency that contained a fraction of care, as if this were a moment: a stolen moment, but a genuine moment. 

Kara’s tongue had already wandered into Lena’s mouth, and the brunette handled her with ease—initially. Kara was persistent and hungry enough that control became more difficult, and when Kara finally released her lips, Lena's exhale scraped against the air. She only half-managed to rein in her next breaths, and ground her teeth as the pillar dug deeper into her spine. 

Kara trailed downward, her lips pressed softly against Lena’s jaw, then her neck. 

Lena grinned. She let her chin rise skyward, opening herself up. She roamed along the sleek planes and ridges of Kara’s suit, noticing the pockets of thin, flexible armor and electronic implants as her hands descended. She reached Kara’s hips. They were firm through the thin material, and she pressed her fingers into them. Kara responded by sinking her teeth into Lena's throat. Lena tightened as the Kryptonian tasted her—and then she trumped Kara by sliding her fingers lower, inward. 

Kara immediately froze. Her breathing strayed across the moisture on Lena’s throat. 

“Kara,” Lena murmured against her, holding equally as still, “Kara, what do you want?”

It took Kara an extra few seconds to pull back.

“I want you to forgive me,” Kara implored quietly, in pain. “I want to talk this out and be your friend again. Doing this with you is—” she shook her head slightly, “—it's miserable. It’s a mistake.”

Lena’s eyes turned hot.

“Jesus, Kara. I never saw what a piece of work you are. Do you ever tell the truth? Do you ever commit to something?”

Stung, the blonde instantly backed away.

“What is it you want to hear?” she said, flinging her arms out in frustration. “That I’m married, but I want you? That I'll ruin my life for you? What's the point of us playing these games? You _know_ I’m sorry, you _know_ I’m doing whatever you ask to make it up to you. Why is it that you can’t give me an _ounce_ of forgiveness?” 

“Do you think I should offer forgiveness to someone who continues to lie?” Lena shot back, incredulous. “Forgive a coward who can’t admit or accept that she’s still lying to herself? Are you serious, Kara?”

Kara stewed, and Lena continued to lay into her.

“ _I’m_ not the one who came back into _your_ life—you keep coming into _mine_. I’m not responsible for that, for what you did to our friendship, for your desire to be forgiven, for your marriage, none of this. You need to prove you’ve _learned_ something before I give you any forgiveness. You also need to understand a _fraction_ of what I felt. And for fuck’s sake, you need to demonstrate that you know what _honesty_ means.”

The Kryptonian shook her head. “So you’ll knowingly inflict this pain on me and _extort_ that honesty? How do you think that’s going to work out?” Kara whispered tightly. Her gaze turned pleading in the silence. “What happened to you, Lena?”

Lena’s eyes narrowed.

“You started this years ago, Kara,” she growled, her look scathing. “ _You_ happened to me.”

Wounded and desperate, Kara prayed to Rao that her pushing and endurance was about to pay off—that Lena would continue, that she would say it, that they would do this.

“Don't you remember?” the brunette went on, the sweetness in the question vicious. Kara winced. “You said you needed to talk. It was right after the Daxamites left, and I knew what that had cost you, so there I was. Completely oblivious. Just happy to be there for you that night. I thought something had happened at work, or with your sister, your family…” 

She shook her head coldly. Kara remained silent, pained.

“We sat on the couch. You turned to me and gave me the strangest look. I’ll never forget it,” Lena's voice dropped dangerously low, “because it was the look of someone who knew exactly what they were about to do. Exactly how they were going to betray the person sitting next to them.” 

Her swallow was pronounced, livid, as she finished. “You _knew_.” 

Kara wanted to blurt out a thousand excuses, a thousand reasons, and couldn't.

“What was I supposed to do?” she whispered.

Lena’s eyes were like diamonds. “Well, you could have at least said it to me out loud,” she hissed. “You didn’t even have the courage to say the words.”

“Lena,” Kara started to plead, “I _know_ I should have said so—”

“I don’t care what you _should_ have done,” the brunette snapped, folding her arms. “I want you to remember what you _did._ You didn’t say a word. You gave me no warning at all. You just took off your glasses, ripped a few buttons on your shirt, and sat there _staring_ at me, Kara. Like you were sitting down for _tea_ instead of exposing our _entire_ friendship for the complete, utter, shitty lie you made it!”

That did it; Kara lost it. 

“Yeah, and then you told me to get the fuck out of your office and stay away from you!” she exploded. “ _Permanently_! You never gave me a chance to explain! You never gave me a chance to say _anything_!”

The agony on her own face felt grotesque—like scars exposed to the wrong type of light.

“What the hell was there to _say_?” Lena snarled, her eyes bitter. “There was nothing you could have said to explain why you lied to me from day one, Kara.”

“I was trying to _protect_ you!” 

“Of course you were. Keep telling yourself that, it must help you sleep at night,” the CEO scoffed, “it sure seems to help everyone else. You're not the first to say you lied to protect me, help me, for my own good, whatever. It's always the same.”

Kara rubbed at her temples, frustrated and exhausted. 

“You said you’re not responsible for my mistakes and my life. That means I’m not responsible for yours, either,” she argued, looking Lena in the eye. “You made your own decisions about how to handle things after I told you who I was and after I came back. First you cut me off, and now it’s emotional extortion. I can’t fix your trust issues for you. And I didn’t cause them, so don’t paint me with the same black-or-white brush you use with your family. I never lied to you to control or punish you. I never did it as a game. Don’t take what other people have done to you out on me.”

One corner of Lena’s mouth rose. Kara braced herself.

“How _interesting_ that you think you’re so different,” she replied, patronizing. "You can maintain your delusion. I'll focus on the fact that you actually said something to me that was honest and direct, and not some timid bleating. I think we’re making progress.”

Kara tried to tamp down her anger and irritation as she searched Lena's eyes. “We could have talked about this a long time ago, Lena. I’ve wanted to talk through this ever since it happened.”

The brunette glared at her.

“If you really wanted to,” she wondered quietly, “then why you didn’t make any attempt to come back?” 

The note of sadness under it took Kara by surprise, and she fumbled for an answer.

“Too busy feeling sorry for yourself, I'm sure,” Lena bit out, abruptly unfolding her arms and recovering. She glanced back toward her desk. “And with that, I think we’ve had enough excitement for today. I have plenty of work to do.”

_But we're so close to getting somewhere._

"I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself," Kara tried to protest, resisting her dismissal, "I didn’t come back here because I di—”

“I don’t really care, Kara. I have better things to do right now than argue about the past,” Lena interrupted, her face cool again, the opening gone. “I run a business. I don’t need your words and explanations, I need actions. If you decide to come back, I don't want arguments. And we won't stop.”

Their eyes met. Kara asked the silent question, wanting verification. Lena’s eyes remained steady. 

After a moment Kara inclined her head, both uneasy and frustrated. She swallowed, then simply turned and began her walk back through the empty window framework. As she ducked onto the balcony, her cape and blonde curls rippled in the breeze, her suit taking on a subdued shine in the sunlight. Lena called to her before she could jump. 

“And do me a favor, Kara,” she said. “Tell Mon-El I said hello.”


	6. The Only Place We Can Make A Choice

Kara smashed her fist against a condemned pylon. 

She turned away from the scattering pieces, pacing an abandoned construction zone. It was surrounded by towering steel barricades, her outburst contained by them—a shield between herself and the world. A full moon cast ethereal light along the ground, creating a series of shadows that stretched across mangled metal and concrete. Some of the waterfront was visible on one side. 

Her breaths became tight and more wretched as the breakdown set in. She pulled out her phone. 

**KARA** (20:03): _I did it again._

Frustration itched under her skin, anguish under that. 

**ALEX** (20:05): _Did what?_

**KARA** (20:05): _Saw Lena._

She’d done more than that, but Alex would infer it, and she felt ugly about typing anything else. 

**ALEX** (20:06): _Where are you?_

**KARA** : _By the waterfr_

She deleted it and sighed. A car honked angrily in the distance. Two lone geese stepped across the rubble-strewn sidewalk that crossed through the construction zone, heading toward the water. The city hummed. Kara started typing again.

 **KARA** (20:08): _Out. I just wanted to let you know._

**ALEX** (20:08): _Okay. You know you can come over if you need to._ _When did you see her?_

**KARA** (20:09): _Earlier today._

**ALEX** (20:09): _Did she ask you to come by?_

Kara’s jaw clenched, and her fingers tightened on the phone.

 **KARA** (20:10): _No._

There was a noticeable pause in the conversation, and she looked away, out at the water. 

Gleaming white lines shone across the surface, interrupted only by the movement of small, lazy waves. The boxy shapes of skyscrapers and twinkle of lights on the opposite side formed a scenic backdrop. She tried to concentrate on that instead of the disorganization around her, in her.

 **KARA** (20:12): _It was like last time, except we argued. It didn’t turn out well. It seems like no matter how much I apologize or what I say to her, she won’t forgive the past._ _And I still feel like I’m losing my mind._

She knew she was skirting the details again, the same way she had when they’d talked. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell Alex what Lena had demanded from her. Her sister needed to think this whole thing was completely voluntary, completely something Kara struggled with on her own, organically, not an ultimatum forced on her. If she knew otherwise, Kara felt reasonably certain her sister would not be happy, at all, with Lena, and then she might not support Kara's efforts to reconcile. And Alex was a lifeline right now—she couldn’t lose her sister's support on this.

 **ALEX** (20:13): _It sounds like a lot happened...will you see her again?_

**KARA** (20:13): _I’m still processing._

**ALEX** (20:13): _Seriously, our door is open if you want to come by. Any time, no matter what. I’m here to support you._ _I’m worried about you, Kara._

Kara’s eyes lingered over _no matter what_. She pursed her lips doubtfully. Maybe she deserved some support for her attempts to reach Lena and talk it out. But not for…everything else.

She had hoped the image of Lena’s face, the feeling of her lips, and the warmth of her skin would be like water—very fluid, moving in and out of her mind, evaporating. Instead Lena sat, embedded like salt. The woman was crystalline, fixed, the thing that was left behind when everything else disappeared. She burned on contact with Kara’s open heart. And Kara almost hated the part of herself that could not stop wondering if, given some water, some dilution, she might also be able to clean the wounds there. 

Anguished, she briefly considered hurling her phone into the water and then flying into the sun. She kicked a rock instead, sending it shooting into a barricade across the way with a sharp clang. She sat in the dirt.

 **KARA** (20:15): _I know. Thank you, Alex. I just need to clear my head._ _Love you._

She tucked the device back into her utility belt and sat there, hands combing through her hair, taking stock. She’d already scouted the city for trouble. She’d already taken a couple flyovers, sprinted across the desert, and smashed some of the condemned structures in this construction zone. The civil unrest around the country was relatively controlled—it was Sunday night. She had even wanted to help the alien ships in orbit with their emergencies, but the situation was too delicate, and she hadn’t been cleared. Not even chatting with Alex was helpful at this point because she was withholding information. And her situation was nearly exactly the same as before.

Completely alone, with no enemies for distraction and no immediate mission to complete, Lena’s words echoed in her head.

_Your morality is a pathetic, fabricated shield. We both know you’re a hypocrite, Kara. Kiss me._

Kara winced. Despite her attempts to reach Lena and salvage something of their past friendship, her ex-best friend continued to hold all the cards. And when confronted, she'd only dug her heels in and forced Kara's hand, knowing that Kara could not actually endure her terms, could not compartmentalize her feelings so easily. Kara had almost lost control. She doubted her own ability to keep handling what she was being asked to do, and it was clear that Lena would stand her ground if she went back. This would only get worse.

 _Adultery,_ as Lena had so bluntly pointed out.

 _And Mon-El deserves more than this. A lot more._ With a pang of guilt, she held out her hand and studied the ring on her finger, remembering the day he’d given it to her. Their vows had been simple, straightforward. She could hardly believe she was turning these kinds of things over in her mind, much less doing any of them. She had never envisioned being in this situation or trying to justify it. Who was this person she was turning into? Had Mon-El really married someone who would betray love and commitment so quickly?

Her eyes began to sting at the edges. It was true that he hadn’t been very attentive, at least not recently. He’d hardly seemed to notice she was struggling. But these rough patches happened every so often, and she hadn’t helped things by dodging him. They both bore responsibility for the relationship; she had no excuse to just check out and leave him in the dark. Especially for a woman who only felt contempt toward her. 

A woman so _attentive_ she could read Kara with a blindfold on. 

_Did I marry the wrong person…?_

That question she most feared, the one she’d been trying to avoid, flashed across her mind. She immediately regretted even thinking it. A few tears fell as she struggled, desperately, to not focus on how little she felt right now for Mon-El and how much she missed Lena. It proved impossible. Her vision blurred as she let herself cry, huddled up on the dirt, all the shades of black, white, and gray in the construction zone running together. 

After some minutes, she began to sniff and wipe her eyes. _Pull it together, Kara Zor-El. People need you. Make a decision. Get a grip._

On a whim, she blasted off, flying to Chinatown and returning to the Korean dumpling vendor. She landed just as he was beginning to put away his trays and close down his store for the night. When he heard the _whoosh_ of her arrival, he turned slowly, and the creak of his bones was nearly audible to Kara. 

To her vast relief, his demeanor did not change when he saw the suit. He looked her up and down with a straight face, then hummed to himself, ready to take her order.

This time Kara requested six of the huge dumplings instead of three. She pulled several bills from her belt to pay, but the man pushed it all away, gesturing insistently at her suit. Faced with his stubborn look, the Kryptonian decided not to argue. She placed the bills back in their pouch and took the food with a grateful nod. 

He quickly reached into his pocket then, withdrawing an old cell phone and pointing between them. 

“Sel-ca?”

Kara nodded in understanding. “Sure,” she agreed, moving to stand by him, dumplings in hand. She grinned into the camera as he took a few pictures. Then he moved aside and bowed, regarding her very seriously. 

_< Please come again,>_ he said in Korean. He held out a victory sign for her. _< Fighting, Supergirl!>_

She felt a smile tug at her lips, and gave him a small wave as she left the stand. She tried not to let any more tears fall as she thought about all the people who believed in her, even when she was like this, while she wandered back to the park. It was dim and empty at this hour. The lights of a few surrounding shops had been turned down or off, but many restaurants remained open. Her mouth watered at the smell of grilled meat and fried foods. She sat on the same bench, spreading her dumpling loot across it and eyeing the possibilities. A few wisps of steam rose into the cool night air. With the pungent spice of a kimchi dumpling, she began fueling up, hopeful that it would help her tackle her dilemma. 

She occasionally looked around, scanning for people; she was worried she might be interrupted, spotted at any moment by passerby and accosted for pictures or autographs. But no one came out, and it was peaceful as she ate the next few dumplings.

By the time she chewed her fifth one, she noticed something she’d somehow missed this morning: a long string of lantern lights that adorned a low stone wall. Each globe shone with its own color: red, blue, green, yellow, pink, white. The stone wall was set in one corner of the park, about four feet tall, erected by the Buddhist temple on one side and a Vietnamese restaurant on the other. The temple looked even more striking at night. It was lit warmly from within, and some of its light spilled out onto the street through wooden windows and doors. More colored lanterns hung from its gently curved roof. They created a glow along the temple’s exterior and roof tiling, and illuminated the tiny tracts of green space around the building, giving different hues to patches of flowers and herbs.

Kara had become so absorbed that she didn’t realize there _were_ people watching her—some from windows in the restaurants, one from the corner of the park...and now a monk outside the doors of the temple. 

_Reality check._

She shoved the remains of the last dumpling into her mouth and stood, prepared to leap into the sky once more, but…but hesitated.

The monk had placed his hands together and was bowing in her direction.

She frowned. After a moment she started to walk slowly toward the temple, driven as much by her own curiosity as she was a conscience-stricken need to correct him. A holy, spiritual person did not need to pay her respect or honor her. The gray-vested monk did not move as she approached. He said nothing at all, only waited, listening to her armored shoes click against the uneven stone path to the temple. 

She stopped when she was face-to-face with the bald man.

“You don’t need to bow to me,” she said quietly. “Not right now, at least.” 

His calm, earthy eyes searched her face for a second.

“What is wrong with right now?” 

It was then that Kara realized the monk was a woman.

“I’m not having a…great moment,” she answered. “I’ve done something you wouldn’t want to bow to.”

“Then I bow again,” the nun returned. She placed her hands together and bowed to Kara once more, with a faint smile.

The Kryptonian was flummoxed. 

“You don’t even know what I did,” she protested, blinking. “You didn’t even ask…”

The nun’s eyes shone with kindness. “Do you think it matters?”

“Of course,” Kara replied. The temporary comfort of her dumplings was beginning to fade and give way to distress. “It matters because I’m Supergirl, I’m supposed to be a role model. And maybe it looks like that on the outside, but I'm pretty sure I’ve really messed up lately, especially—” 

She remembered that they were in a public place, and she looked around a little, reining herself in.

“Can we…go inside?”

The bald woman nodded once and gestured for her to enter through the weather-beaten doors of the temple. 

Kara did, inhaling a lungful of sandalwood as she stepped into a modest but open room. Its hardwood flooring was barren of furniture except for a wide, ornately carved altar at the far wall. Candles and incense had been neatly arranged across it. A tall mahogany statue of the Buddha, seated in meditation, formed its centerpiece. Her gaze dropped to the floor. A row of black, cushioned mats were set out before the altar, with a circular sitting cushion atop each. Another row sat behind it. The room was completely silent, the lighting in it kept soft and low. 

When she turned around, she saw the nun place her hands together and bow to the space before walking forward. Kara didn’t want to be disrespectful, even if the nun seemed to be paying no particular attention to her, so she bowed too. She noticed then that the other woman only had on socks. 

To her left she found a small shoe rack. Quickly sliding her armored pair off, Kara placed them on the rack, following the nun. The woman seated herself on a cushion with ease and indicated that Kara could sit across from her. Swallowing, Kara held out her cape, then lowered herself onto the firm cushion, crossing her legs. There was a long silence as they faced each other.

“Okay, one more time,” the nun finally said, her voice smooth. “What is wrong with right now?”

Seeing that the woman was both serious and lacking any sign of ill judgment, Kara found herself slowly, cautiously telling the general story—minus the identifying details. 

“…I’m afraid that trying to pull her back into my life is destroying my life, and it’s probably not even possible anyways. She still hates me for what I did. But I don’t know if I can just forget about this and lose her again, even if what I’m doing is wrong,” she explained, her face pinched with pain and her held-back tears. “I…I don’t think I've let myself feel how much I missed her, because it hurt so much. I just tried to move on…I was seeing my husband, and we got married so soon after so much happened…”

Kara paused her rambling at last, stopping the flood of words and emotions. As the quiet of the temple settled in again, her listener sat with an upright, unchanged posture. Her expression remained calm.

“I see you’ve made many spirals, and you’ve told me many things,” the nun replied. “But you have not told me what is wrong with right now.”

Kara almost laughed. “My life is falling apart, I just told you everything!”

“Everything except what is wrong with this moment.”

At Kara’s blank look, she pointed at the hero’s legs.

“Is there something wrong with your cushion?” 

Kara shook her head.

“Your body?”

Again she shook her head.

“The silence, then? The temple? The Buddha?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Kara answered, verbalizing it. Instantly she felt as if someone had zinged her in the forehead with a Kryptonite pellet, as if she had physically taken a step back from her tormented thoughts. The nun smiled once more. 

“You are here, now,” she murmured. “It is the only place we can make a choice. To be somewhere else is to suffer.” 

Kara contemplated this for a few seconds. 

“Okay…right now, immediately, there’s no problem. But that doesn’t change what I’ve already done, and it doesn’t give me a direction going forward.” 

The nun nodded. “Do you believe thinking about this situation will help you?”

“Well, yes, I want to figure it out,” Kara insisted. “I don’t want destroy my life.”

“And if you thought about it harder, or if you talked to someone wiser and holier…or perhaps if you punished yourself a little more, you could figure it out?” she inquired lightheartedly, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. The blonde’s frown deepened as she went on. “I think I have heard more than enough thinking and talking and punishing already. The Buddha may be dead, but the buddha within you is not. Can you hear her?” 

Kara said nothing. The nun seemed to sense her resistance, and her face grew compassionate once more.

“You already know,” she went on, “that _this_ is, because _that_ is. You are here—we are all here—due to many interconnected causes, effects, and conditions. But your problem right now isn’t understanding how you got here. It’s being too attached to your ideas to see and relax with _this is_ , what is.” 

“But I do see what is. I explained the whole situation to you.”

The nun looked at Kara with a twinkle in her eye. 

“If you see so clearly, then why do you not make your decision and act? Do you think a falcon wavers like this before making a dive?”

“No,” Kara reluctantly admitted. “But a falcon doesn’t have a hundred other things to worry about.”

“And neither do you,” the woman assured her. “When you quiet your mind, when you disengage from the mental stories I heard you telling, and you can see and embrace what _is_ , all of it, clarity will come—in the here and now.”

“How do I do that?” Kara whispered. It sounded miraculous, too good to be true. “I don’t know where to even start to do that. My mind is all jumbled up. I don’t have that peace, I just feel sick and out of balance.”

The older woman smiled fully now. “I cannot do it for you, but I can offer my presence, and sit in meditation with you if it would help.”

“I’ve never done that,” Kara said. She thought quickly back to her experiences with Raoism as a child. “At least not…like this.”

“It's not very complicated. Close your eyes, and sit upright. Find a comfortable position for your hands. Pay attention to your breath.” 

Kara shifted in response and, feeling self-conscious, tried to assume a position that seemed right. She closed her eyes and focused on her inhale, then exhale.

“Just notice how your breath feels,” the nun murmured, “how it passes in and out. Feel it as it moves through your nose, throat, and fills your lungs…then leaves. When thoughts come, simply notice them, release them, and return focus to the breath.” 

But Kara found this much harder to do than it sounded. Wound up, she thought about the pain in her chest first, then the ache of tears in her eyes, and the brokenness within her heart. Her entire body felt twisted and ill at ease with guilt. She wanted to beat the cushioned mat with her fist when, instead of some blank slate of bliss, Mon-El appeared in her mind’s eye. 

She tried to follow the nun’s directions and return to her breath, but his face would not leave her, judging her, knowing exactly what she had done. And then she thought about that. 

_Kara,_ she heard Lena ask her again, the brunette breathless, her fingers poised near Kara’s thighs, _Kara, what do you want?_

She sat on her cushion, in this vortex, for what seemed like hours, though it was really only minutes.

“I see tension lingering in your face,” the nun observed. “Hold everything lightly. Here, I will guide you.”

Kara felt grateful as the woman slowly recited a series of lines, one by one, and she listened to each intently. 

_Breathing,_

_I hear the sound in this room._

_Breathing,_

_I hear the sound of my own breath._

_Breathing,_

_I hear the sound of my heart._

Kara swallowed, concentrating once more on the rise and fall of her chest, the distant sounds of traffic, and indistinct voices filtering into the temple from outside. Her heart beat against her ribs. The cool night air passed through the windows, trailing along her skin. It still smelled of food; she could detect various curries and spices.

_Breathing,_

_I hear the sound of my fears._

_Breathing,_

_I hear the sound of my worries._

_Breathing,_

_I hear the sound of my anxieties._

She tried, but she couldn’t hear them—she just _saw_ Mon-El, images of their life, memories of the moments he had been there at her side, holding her. Her chest constricted as these gave way to images of a life without him, what it would mean, what it would say about her. Those fears were loud, pleading, forceful, cutting quickly through her mind and sticking there like throwing knives, drawing blood. And then she heard herself worry.

_I'll be alone, single again. I'll be a failure as a hero. Defective. Damaged. Not someone to look up to or emulate. All of this will be for nothing, like I told Alex and Maggie. My life will just be emptier._

Because wouldn't it be emptier without the routines and comfort she and Mon-El had established over the years? Empty without making fun of the goofy way he brushed his teeth, without smelling his musky cologne, listening to his terrible singing in the shower, watching shows, laughing at their inside jokes? 

Could she ever find someone else who would love her—for who she was, and for who she had to be in this world? 

_Breathing,_

_I hear the sound of my jealousies._

_Breathing,_

_I hear the sound of my judgments._

_Breathing,_

_I hear the sound of my opinions._

As she sat with her narratives, she began to see her own filters, her own distortions. Her fears and anxious pressure to make a decision were linked to a series of what-ifs, beliefs, and judgment. And it wasn’t only her own self-judgment she heard, but what she believed and feared would come from Mon-El, Alex, Maggie, the nun, the entire public…and Lena. 

_You wouldn’t jeopardize all that…safety._

Lena had already judged her, and found her wanting.

She breathed out.

_Breathing,_

_I hear the sound of my happiness._

_Breathing,_

_I hear the sound of my joy._

Kara frowned, but kept concentrating. Nothing happened for a few moments, and then she was surprised; they began to come alive around her. A sense of joy became real and manifest in the calm silence, and her happiness emerged in the simple cushion supporting her body and the sensation of air in her lungs. In her mind, she saw Lena’s smile and heard the lilting sound of her voice, her laugh. 

Her chest began to lift with warmth and aliveness, an energetic peace and beauty that radiated under her skin and outward, beyond the critical, anxious narrative she had carried into the temple.

_Breathing,_

_I hear the sound of my patience._

_Breathing,_

_I hear the sound of my compassion._

_Breathing,_

_I hear the sound of my kindness._

Her lightness was tempered by the subtle sting of tears as she realized she had developed patience, compassion, and kindness for others...but recently, she'd forgotten them for herself. There was space for more than just judgment, shame, and regret. There was space to remember that she was doing her best and not required to be perfect. Supergirl or not, she was still developing her understanding of herself and life. Like everyone else.

She felt a tiny, tiny smile through the tears.

_Breathing,_

_I hear the wonderful sounds of the world._

_Breathing,_

_I hear the sound of impermanence._

_Breathing,_

_I return to the present moment._

Once more she felt her lungs expand and contract, her heart continuing to beat steadily, the traffic far away continuing to flow, the silence in the temple enduring. Her tears abated. Each one of her internal experiences had arisen and faded away, each moment changing, and now she was here.

_Breathing,_

_I release all sounds._

She let go, and rested.

After some time, she opened her eyes slowly. The weight in her chest had diminished to something she could hold, something she could touch without being consumed.

“I need to talk to him,” she whispered, half to herself and half to the nun. “I've been afraid to risk doing it—I’m afraid of what will happen. But the truth is that I don't know what will happen. I only know what I'm experiencing. I've been in so much pain, struggling so hard internally against all of this. What is. I think I'm ready to accept what's happening in me with a little less judgment...and tell him what's happened. It's important.”

The nun regarded her with the same even-tempered gaze, in the exact same position. 

“Then go to him. Talk. Dive.”

Heartened by the uncanny echo of Cat Grant’s words, Kara began to stand up right then. “Thank you,” she said quietly, her eyes rather than her words conveying the depth of her gratitude. She made a small bow to the seated woman, whose mouth rose into a smile once more. 

The nun returned the bow from her cushion and watched the blonde retreat. Kara stepped fluidly into her shoes, and when she had departed from the temple, leaping into the air, the older woman closed her eyes.

“May you be happy, Supergirl. May you be free from suffering. May you be well. May you be at peace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N2:
> 
> \- On Buddhism: last line of the chapter is one version of a meditation/prayer used to cultivate loving-kindness, compassion, joy, and equanimity (Four Immeasurables). “This is because that is” is a common, extremely simplified, and partial way to summarize the Buddhist teaching of interdependent co-arising/dependent origination (and the concept of emptiness/no-self).
> 
> \- On Korean: “Fighting!” ("hwaiting/paiting" in Korean) is an informal expression used to encourage someone to do their best in achieving a goal and/or enduring a hardship. “Sel-ca” refers to “self-camera” in Korean; a selfie in English. 
> 
> \- The breath meditation was uncredited when I came across it, I’ve been unable to find the source. If anyone by chance recognizes it, let me know.


	7. Let's Have It

**_// NATIONAL CITY NEWS //_ **

**_MORE MET GEN DEATHS REPORTED_ **

**_NATIONAL PROTESTS CONTINUE_ **

_Earlier today, Metropolis General Hospital confirmed six more deaths due to the unidentified infectious disease that originated on the hospital’s isolation ward. A total of 24 people have died since an outbreak began on Friday, all of them within the hospital complex. Medical staff continued to call for patience and calm as teams work around the clock to understand the outbreak. Doctors in the quarantine zone remained hopeful, and said that the disease’s mechanism and progression were being studied with the input of alien medical professionals, state-of-the-art imaging tools, and lab results from the hospital. Outside, researchers with mobile equipment worked to devise and implement possible treatments. Met Gen officials praised the efforts of everyone involved, reiterating that staff within the quarantine zone are present on a voluntary basis._

_Law enforcement reported that to date, only minor disputes had erupted among those confined in and around the hospital. MPD’s chief of police, Trinity Matthews, offered a few comments to the press. “Morale is better than could be expected, given the extraordinary conditions we find ourselves in,” she told reporters. “We’ve seen a lot of cooperation and resilience from everyone. Those volunteering to enter Met Gen to help save others’ lives have been an inspiration to us all.”_

_Chief Matthews also acknowledged concerns over the increasing number of protestors outside the quarantine zone. Law enforcement estimated that a few thousand had camped around barricades outside the hospital, with a counter-protest beginning to form this morning. Humanity First claimed credit for the protest, but several other pro-human groups have been reported in attendance. Many protestors denounced the recent passage of a resolution within the UN's Security Council authorizing aid to orbiting ships. Counter-protestors urged the U.S. to do more to address the crisis. Nations around the world have scrambled to set up the infrastructure and programming necessary to receive alien refugees, who are now reported to number in the hundreds of thousands, if not millions._

_A large group of Humanity First protestors arrived at Met Gen in green and black, the colors once associated with LexCorp, and carried signs in support of its former CEO, Lex Luthor. Mr. Luthor remains incarcerated in a supermax facility after receiving several felony convictions, most related to the company’s execution of radical pro-human initiatives. LexCorp’s connections to pro-human groups were severed by current CEO Lena Luthor. For several years, Ms. Luthor has spearheaded efforts to rebrand the company, renaming it L Corp and modifying its business focus. She issued a statement regarding the company's stance this afternoon, an excerpt of which follows:_

“When I stepped into the role of CEO at LexCorp, I did so fully aware of my obligation to right the wrongs brought about by my brother’s discriminatory, anti-alien operations. I made a substantive and enduring commitment to justice, and I do not take that responsibility lightly. To follow through on my pledge, and in the hope of assisting the courageous volunteers at Met Gen, L Corp will freely offer our specialist staff and cutting-edge technology for whatever needs the hospital may have. In addition, we will continue to work with government and UN officials to formulate just, sustainable, and humane solutions to the ongoing alien refugee crisis. 

This company has and always will stand firmly against anti-alien prejudice and discrimination. As CEO, I will not only state our commitment to these beliefs, I will ensure we take action whenever circumstances call for it. Those circumstances are now.” 

_Outside of Met Gen, news of Ms. Luthor’s statement received jeers from protestors, who went on to chant anti-alien slogans at aid workers as they prepared to enter and exit the hospital. One man spoke with us on condition of anonymity._

“Lex is a genius. This disease would have been dealt with by now if he were here, no fuss, no questions asked. We need a man like him, a man of action, who can save these innocent lives and get rid of the source of the problem, the aliens. Instead we have ineffective leadership that’s too sensitive about every little thing to make the hard decisions. And where are the so-called superheroes right now? Why aren’t they protecting us from this threat?” 

_Supergirl reportedly checked in with authorities at the site very early this morning and was seen conferencing with doctors and researchers before taking off. Other meta-humans and vigilantes have been spotted on the premises at various times, including Green Arrow, Batwoman, the Flash…_

  


* * *

  


The situation in Metropolis had worsened right after Kara left the temple, diverting her from the flight home to Mon-El, and now—two days later—her thigh let out a chime. She absently pulled her phone from her pocket as she walked home from Catco, her head buzzing with ideas for a new take on this evolving, multifaceted crisis. 

Unlocking her phone in the darkness, she let out a relieved breath when she saw the sender’s name.

 **ALEX** (20:26): _Hey. How are things going?_

Kara frowned in suspicion at the question; they’d talked only a few hours ago about the DEO’s covert support role at Met Gen, and then its role in national preparations to take on alien refugees. Things were going the same now as they had been then.

 **KARA** (20:28): _Fine…_

**ALEX** (20:28): _Did you talk to Mon-El?_

The blonde grimaced.

 **KARA** (20:29): _No…_

**ALEX** (20:29): _KARA._

**KARA** (20:30): _There’s a lot going on, you know I haven’t had time!!_

She felt a twinge of irritation. Even if she could securely send texts about how she was flying around the country to mediate civil unrest and meet with leaders, flying into orbit to ferry emergency supplies to alien ships, and flying around National City to take care of routine events, she shouldn’t need to explain this to Alex. Her sister knew how high the stakes were. Personal issues sometimes needed to be put aside for the moment. It didn’t mean she wasn’t going to do this. 

**ALEX** (20:31): _I know, and I’m not trying to criticize you, I just also know that you usually make time for what’s important. What’s going on?_

The Kryptonian's guilt level increased slightly.

 **KARA** (20:32): _I didn’t know you were so Team Kara Blows Up Her Marriage In The Middle Of A Global Crisis, Alex._

**ALEX** (20:32): _Hey, go big or go home._

 **ALEX** (20:32): _KIDDING. I'm kidding. Bad joke. But maybe it won’t blow up._

**KARA** (20:33) _Maybe. If I knew exactly what to say._

**ALEX** (20:33): _You know what to say. Just tell the truth. You’ll feel so much better after it’s off your chest. YOU CAN DO THIS._

Kara gave a sigh that sounded like a truck had just impacted her ribcage. Her sister had always been good at holding her accountable and being her cheerleader at the same time, and this moment was not an exception.

 **KARA** (20:34): _I know. I’m finally getting a breather over here, I’m on my way home from Catco. I'll do it._

Her feet slowed near a brick alcove. She ducked in and closed her eyes, blocking out the city and street lights, the rumble of a nearby train, the smell of exhaust. For several minutes she tried to get in the right mental space. She focused on her breathing, calling on the memory of the nun, the feeling of peace and certainty she’d had at the temple.

She reminded herself that this was about coming back to herself, her values, and accepting what was, accepting the truth. When other people had fallen away from who they were, she’d emphasized the importance of this countless times. If she believed it, she needed to do it. 

“Just tell the truth, Kara,” she muttered, repeating Alex's words. “Stop struggling against it. Woman up.”

_Don’t be a coward, just tell me what you want._

She ground her teeth at the intrusion of Lena’s voice, and started walking again. Soon she arrived under the arched entryway of the apartment building and hopped up the steps. Anxiety raced in her hands and circled rapidly in her stomach as she ascended the stairwell, silent except for the faint echo of her footfalls. Another tone sounded from her cell. She glanced down, hoping for something to bolster her.

 **ALEX** (20:40): _I’m here if you need anything. I love you._

At the door, Kara took a few more steadying breaths. She trusted Mon-El, and she trusted that even if she was conflicted and confused right now, they could handle this constructively. Not that it would be easy—and she didn’t expect things to be okay any time soon—but it could be handled somehow. _It could be handled._

 _No matter what,_ she told herself, _Alex is here_. She wasn’t alone.

 **KARA** (20:40): _Love you more. I’ll let you know when I’m done._

**ALEX** (20:41): _Get in there!_

She slid the key into the lock and wrapped her fingers around the cool doorknob, letting herself in. She entered the apartment with soft, cautious steps. A flood of temporary relief hit her when she saw that the lights and TV were on; she would catch Mon-El while he was here.

“Hey,” he called, sitting up from his usual position on the couch. She was shocked when she glimpsed a book in his hands. He stood up to greet her, laying it aside gently. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” she answered, too distracted by anxiety to give a real response. He padded over, but she dodged his eyes, setting her bag on the island to unpack. “The usual, you know. What are you reading?”

Now behind her, he slid his arms around her waist, the gesture natural, done countless times before.

“I—” he laughed a little sheepishly into her hair, “—I wanted to read something you liked, so I picked a book from your shelf. I’ve missed you this past week.”

Kara swallowed, feeling like Kryptonite acid was moving through her insides, relieved he could not see her face. _Of course_ this would happen, _of course_ he would say these things now. 

After a moment she moved her hands over his. It now felt less familiar, even odd, much like their relationship. There was some…disharmony.

She clutched at him a bit tightly.

“I know. I’ve been…out a lot lately,” she said, her throat narrowing, making it even more difficult to speak. She gnawed the inside of her cheek. “But now I’m here and…I think we need to talk about some things, Mon-El.”

He stiffened around her.

“That’s never good,” he replied, concerned. She felt him pull away from her back.

In the pause that followed, she hung her head, releasing his hands to lean forward onto the island’s counter. She’d never settled on where to start. Should she blurt it out and be done with it, or try to soften it to hurt him less? 

She suspected that if she did soften it, somehow he wouldn’t understand how serious it was. But if she blurted it out, his reaction might be worse.

“What is it?” he asked, studying her face from the side. His hands remained on her hips, here for her, as he had always been.

 _Ever since his return from space._

Kara gave herself a long moment to marvel at how long ago it felt that he’d returned and come looking for her. Those few weeks after Rhea’s defeat and the retreat of the Daxamites had been almost unbearable, fraught with the grief of losing him and then Lena, until he'd found a way back and a cure for his lead allergy. She remembered how impressed she'd been with his determination to reunite with her, how serious his commitment was. His experiences had taught him more about being a hero, and a mature adult, than Kara ever could, and that change was difficult to resist. Especially when he no longer faced any competition for her heart. 

Maybe it was too soon. Maybe she’d been a little blinded, a little too impressed—he was still immature at times. Maybe she had been hurting too badly from what had happened with Lena. What she’d known for sure, though, was that she could not continue to deal with losses like that. She could not lose, for a second time, a man who reminded her a little of Krypton by proxy, of home, and who ripped open those deep layers of grief when he left. Marriage seemed to be an antidote for that: he would always be hers, restoring a little piece of her former life. She would never lose that part of her again.

“Talk to me, Kara,” he murmured. "You just went off somewhere..."

She felt a stinging in her chest as she came back to the present. 

“I don’t want to talk,” she replied, whispering to the countertop, readying herself. She clenched her fists lightly. “I don’t want to say this, Mon-El. I just know I have to.”

He went eerily silent, possibly knowing, _probably_ knowing, after their years together. She’d never acted quite this way in front of him, and they both knew it. She was going to do this, but she needed another minute, because she was a coward, _she was_. A coward who had to dance around it first. He was stronger; he voiced it before she could get herself to.

“Who is it?” 

She shut her eyes, a tear, then two, falling quietly onto the counter. They made little dark splashes against the wood. Her fingers trembled slightly as she fidgeted, her silence giving her away. 

He dropped his hands from her entirely.

“I knew it,” he said, his voice blank, its bitterness only detectable to her. It grew more obvious as he kept talking. “I knew something was wrong with you this past week. You’ve been acting off. _Fuck_ …”

She sniffed through the liquid pain draining from her eyes and nose, her inner affliction turning outward. She had to say something. She finally turned to face him, feeling small.

“I’m sorry. I—I wanted to talk to you before, but every time I tried—”

“You didn’t,” he interjected pointedly. His eyes bored into hers, already detached, cut off. “You wanted to talk to me, but you _didn’t_.”

“No,” she acknowledged. The guilt and panic she felt were intensifying as his reaction worsened. “I tried, but I didn’t tell you because I didn’t…because I was scared, Mon-El. And I wasn’t sure what was happening, or what I wanted from—”

“Wait,” he laughed a cruel, sarcastic laugh. “You _weren’t sure_ what was happening or what you wanted when you fucked someone else?” 

“I didn’t fuck anyone,” she whispered, slightly angry now. She’d assumed his response would be bad, but this accusation was ugly, and he kept interrupting her. “I didn’t, Mon-El. You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“Then what’s the story? Where did this come from?” he interrogated her, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can start anywhere, Kara, I don’t care. Let’s have it.”

When she looked him in the eye now, she saw the fringes of despair, saw a man torn between a willingness to hear her and an automatic, cold-hearted disgust. 

That disgust hurt the most. No mistake, no issue of hers had ever caused him to react with disgust. She'd been open with him about things she’d never even told Alex—like how she still struggled with a desire to leave this planet and her family, to simply not deal with humanity’s selfishness, backwardness, ignorance. She’d been open with him about the trauma of being raised here, as a human when she was not a human, of being sent away from her family, culture, and history, and then the constant fear of discovery on Earth and the way it stunted her, over _years_ , over _decades_ , reminding her, always, of how alone she was, living like a fugitive, an imposter.

He’d helped hold the deepest burdens in her life, and he understood what she was talking about because he'd lived some of it, in his own way. And when she’d come to him, no matter how difficult the issue was, he’d managed it with her, and they’d survived. She could hardly touch the thought of all their growth and strength together going to waste.

But now she was also listening to the part of _herself_ that was growing, that was strong, that had started to question if it was enough to simply _manage_ and _survive_ and protect herself from the risk of loss. She was listening to the part that had started to ask if she was really happy—with herself, and with her own decisions over the past several years. And that part was connected to something so deep in her, such a core part of her, that not even he was privy to it. He couldn't see it, couldn't touch it, couldn't know it. It was hers, and hers alone.

And that part of her was so powerful that it was terrifying.

Taking a breath, she tried to answer his question. “It started with the Red K. I told you I wasn't sure who I was anymore.”

“And I thought maybe you were just having a bad day. That this was all just a bad _week_ ,” he followed along, angry. 

“Well, it _was_ just a bad day when it happened. I didn’t know it was going to cause me to…reevaluate my life like this.”

He grew angrier. “Reevaluating is normal. I’ve always asked you to just tell me what’s going on if you or we are having a rough moment. I thought we both agreed on talking things out with each other. Now I find out there’s someone else you’re—well, not _fucking_ , so what is it? Attracted to? Falling in love with? Exactly how much _reevaluating_ have you done?”

She was much too afraid and ashamed to admit that it wasn’t even love. It was _something_ , but it couldn’t really be called _that_. Not with a mountain of baggage between herself and Lena. 

“I just got into something I can’t…can’t control,” she responded vaguely. Her eyes pleaded with him to understand. “I didn’t ask for this. It happened this way, and it’s complicated.”

“That’s a load of shit and you know it,” he spat, shaking his head. “Fuck that. Things don’t just happen some way. You _chose_ this, Kara. And that’s what makes this woe-is-me act so pathetic. Just tell me what you did.”

Kara’s tears fell again, marking her blouse with inky blotches of shame. It _should_ be a simple matter of choice and control. Yet there were things with Lena she really couldn’t control, both internal and external, and it made her irrationally upset that he didn’t understand this.

“I kissed someone while I was infected with Red K, and I haven’t…been able to forget it,” she croaked helplessly, her back digging into the edge of the counter. “It happened twice after that. I’m—I’m sorry.”

“An apology doesn’t erase what you’ve done,” he snapped. He looked at her directly for a moment, bewildered, considering. “I can’t even believe what I’m hearing. Is this still happening?"

She winced at the question. "It's still something I'm...figuring out, yes."

"How could you do this?" he cried, his expression uncomprehending and miserable. "What haven’t I given you?” 

“Nothing,” she answered softly. It was surprisingly easy, even though her entire body was tense. “I still love you. This isn’t your fault.”

That seemed to infuriate him more. 

“Of course it isn’t my fault! How could it be _my_ fault? I didn’t cheat!” he fired at her, clenching his jaw. “And don’t tell me you love me. It’s been, what, a _week_? You can’t love me very much if that’s all it takes. Why don’t you just tell me who it is?” 

“Does it really matter who it is?” she asked, wiping the tears from her face.

“It matters to _me_ ,” he shot back. His glare turned hard. “Thing is, you don’t seem to _care_ about me, or what this will do to _us_ , and I’m—” 

He stopped and ran his hands through his hair in mounting hurt and frustration, then started to pace across the room and back, at a loss. 

“I _do_ care about you,” Kara tried, feeling nauseated. This was rapidly spinning out of control. “That’s _exactly_ why I’ve struggled to tell you! I didn’t want to lose you, I wanted to figure this out!”

“Well, it’s a little too late for that, isn’t it?” he growled, stopping across from her. He let out a harsh exhale. “It’s a little too late when you’re admitting you can’t control it, or forget about it, and it’s complicated, whatever. I know what that means. It’s a death sentence. Even if you haven’t fucked whoever it is, I know you, Kara. Maybe you think I can’t tell, but I can. You’re not with me anymore. And you don’t seem to want to be.”

She heard his voice waver terribly on the last sentence; it bent like a tree branch about to snap. She felt the pain in it, and she wanted to sink to her knees and full-on cry about what she was doing right now. But that deep part of herself held her up.

He watched her, examined her.

“Am I wrong?”

And if there was any chance to back away from what she’d done, she knew this was it. She could tell him how much of a mistake she’d made, how she would fix it and never see Lena again, and beg him to forgive her. But the look in his eye told her that something had already broken between them, and she knew something had already broken open in her. And she knew she couldn't put the shutters back on it, regardless of what she said to him now. 

“No,” she confessed, now feeling strangely dull. “Maybe it is too late.”

It could have been relief, or it could have been numbness due to the emotional trauma of this moment, but Kara experienced the feeling of _nothing_ for the first time in a long time, and its weightlessness was glorious.

“Who the hell are you?” Mon-El practically yelled at her, momentarily jarring her from it. His face pinched with betrayal. “I think you need to get tested for side effects of Red K and whatever else you were exposed to, because you’re _not_ the woman I married. Not if you’re going to just give up on us like that. It doesn’t add up. At all. How can you be this confused about what you want after _one_ _week_?” 

As she looked at him, she had the random, fleeting thought that maybe she hadn’t been mature enough to get married. Maybe she’d misunderstood what love was about, mistaken it somehow. She didn't understand how it could turn out like this.

“I don’t need to be tested, and I _am_ the woman you married,” she asserted, calm now. “And do you really think I’ve known this person for a week?”

His mouth twisted as he realized her implication. 

“There’s only two people I’ve never trusted around you. Tell me which one did this.”

“I thought it was _my_ fault, Mon-El,” she replied, shaking her head. “Didn’t you say I chose this?”

“Oh, I know it’s your fault. But someone else didn’t respect the boundaries of our marriage either, and I’d like to know who I should stop speaking to or interacting with ever again,” he responded, his tone icy. “You owe me at least this. Who is it? James or Lena?”

She swallowed tightly. “Why do you think it’s James or Lena?”

“Because I’m not the idiot you must think I am,” he said, landing a hit. “Don’t try to protect them. If you won’t tell me, I’ll just talk to them. Their egos are big enough that I'm sure they wouldn't hesitate to brag.”

She knew he was serious, and she also knew Lena would actively enjoy the opportunity to tell him; the upper hand was his here. She inhaled.

_Accept what is._

“It’s Lena,” she murmured.

He let out a disgusted snort and shook his head. “You know, I always hoped that whatever was going on with you two died when you stopped speaking to each other. But of course it couldn’t be that easy. She always finds a way. Always been a snake, just like her family.” 

Kara felt another flare of anger.

“Again, isn’t it _my_ fault? There’s no need to bring her family into this.” 

“And there you go all over again, defending her, just like you used to,” he sneered. He put his hands on his hips. "I don't get it. What the hell has Lena ever had that I don't? Money and power? Is it because she's an attractive scientist? Is it just lust? Did you realize you liked what you saw one day over brunch? I'm just confused. She's a _human_ , Kara. How can she ever really understand you? How can she match you?"

Kara watched him spiral, feeling an overwhelming frustration. She sighed and rubbed at her temples.

"I don't know, Mon-El. Some things just are what they are. I told you all this because you should know. And we have to decide together what happens now."

He laughed out loud. It was mirthless.

“ _We_ have to decide? This has been out of my hands since it started. I don't know what you were expecting, Kara—if you thought maybe I'd be flexible on this or help you get over it or what—but I'm not a saint, I can’t do this. Not when you're telling me this is how you really feel, not when you can’t control it, not when you’re defending her. This is over for me. We—” he shook his head, wounded and full of loathing, “—we need to separate.” 

Kara blinked at how sudden it was, how quickly it was all over. Still backed into the counter, she stood there breathing as Mon-El silently dared her to disagree with him, or attempt to persuade him otherwise. She didn’t.

He pursed his lips in a mix of disappointment, betrayal, and pain, and then he turned away from her and left.

And her tiny hope that maybe the bomb she’d been carrying around would be a blip when it exploded, something that could be talked through, or could somehow be reversed or handled without wrecking her life—her optimistic denial—was now, once again, obliterated. The kitchen was silent, there was nothing left after this explosion; what she’d told herself about how she trusted Mon-El and their relationship had been melted away. Kara kept breathing. She felt too sick, too radioactive, to touch anything except for her ring. 

She placed it softly on the counter. 


	8. For Something To Be Created

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Wow—thank you for sharing your reactions/questions, what you’re getting from the characters, and what touches you. I'm trying to reply in the comments. I think this story is an uncomfortable one, and probably violates some common fandom preferences, so I’m heartened to see you giving it a chance/enjoying it.
> 
> WARNING for this chapter: rating and intensity go up. I spent extra time revising, trying to be mindful and intentional about this portrayal. I just can't look at my words anymore, so here we go.

[[[ Missed call from Alex Danvers — 21:58 ]]]

\----- **ALEX** (21:59): _Okay, it’s been like an hour… Did you finish talking? Is everything okay?_

 **KARA** (22:05): _Yes…and not so much yes._

\----- **ALEX** (22:06): _What happened??_

 **KARA** (22:06): _We’re separating._

[[[ Missed call from Alex Danvers — 22:07 ]]]

\----- **ALEX** (22:10): _Shit. I’m so, so sorry, Kara. What do you need right now? Our place is open if you want. You can sleep here, talk, eat, whatever…are you able to answer the phone?_

**KARA** (22:11): _I’m fine._

[[[ Missed call from Alex Danvers — 22:11 ]]]

\----- **ALEX** (22:12): _Kara, seriously. I’m concerned. Please pick up the phone._

 **KARA** (22:13): _I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t know what to say._

\----- **ALEX** (22:13): _Then you don’t have to talk. You can just come over and eat and watch movies with us. What are you doing right now?_

 **KARA** (22:17): _Staring at the ceiling._

\----- **ALEX** (22:17): _Please come over. At least get some air._

\----- **ALEX** (22:18): _Kara, this is Maggie. Don’t force us to take you hostage. We will._

 **KARA** (22:21): _I love both of you, but I’m just going to lay here._

\----- **ALEX** (22:21): _Instead of food and movies? Why don't we at least come over to check on you?_

 **KARA** (22:22): _I won’t answer. This isn’t a cry for help, I promise. I really just want to be left alone._

\----- **ALEX** (22:22): _Okay, then will you come out for breakfast tomorrow? Even with what's that’s going on outside right now, just take an hour. Please._

 **KARA** (22:23): _Fine. Until then, I don’t want to talk._

\----- **ALEX** (22:3): _Understood. But if you need anything, ANYTHING, Kara...don’t hesitate._

 **KARA** (22:23): _I know. Love you._

She silenced the device and shoved it deep into the pocket of her sweats. 

Her sandals scraped gleaming tile as she took a few steps forward, the sound echoing faintly against expensive marble walls. She reached for the arrow-up button and watched it turn neon purple at her fingertips. 

A low, polished tone sounded. She glanced back into the lobby, quickly confirming that security was occupied by her diversion, and then entered the vacant elevator. 

It started to ascend at a pace that made her wish she'd just suited up and flown. She tapped a foot as her hands fidgeted in her pockets, her fingertips tracing the shape of her phone. Calm tones sounded, marking each floor. It wasn't long before her lie to Alex stared back at her through the burnished metal of the elevator. She would tell Alex soon, but for now she wanted this to be just hers. She was a grown woman, and Alex was her sister, not her keeper.

No one was her keeper anymore. She was hardly her own keeper. 

When the doors slid open, she drifted out into the darkened hallway, a bit unbalanced. Her footfalls smacked against empty, eerie space. She tried to focus on the sound of them and ignore the flurry of thoughts in her head. If she thought too hard, she might convince herself to turn around and see Alex anyways. Which was exactly what a coward would do. And she was a lot of things at the moment, but she would not be a coward.

_But this is insane. Am I really coming here? Now? So soon? I'm being grossly disrespectful..._

_Why should I wait? What is there to disrespect? We both threw the marriage away. And I don't think either of us will take it back._

_What's_ really _insane is that I managed to suppress this for so long..._

And of course, she heard Lena.

_I never saw what a piece of work you are. Do you ever commit to something?_

She stared at the stately doors of her former friend's office, wavering at the edge of the transition she had created. She heard one more voice. 

_For something to be created, something must be destroyed._

She tried not to think about what she'd destroyed—someone she'd loved, her daily routines, the self she’d been—or the overwhelming anxiety and tiny feelings of relief that were also there. She tried not to think about how her once-friendship with Lena was rotten now, possibly poisonous, all but wrecked too. What they were doing was sick, false, and it hurt, and Kara didn't know how to get past their pain and talk.

_But this is the chance I've been given,_ she reminded herself, summoning her determination. 

She would prove to herself and to Lena that she wasn’t going to be afraid anymore. She would center her sense of self-determination and vitality, she would _risk_ and _create_ again. And—maybe stupidly—she would refuse to lose hope. Because if she herself was emerging, transforming, and doing what she never thought she’d do, however gradually she did it…then couldn’t Lena, too? 

She reached for the door handle. It silently gave way and let her take the gamble. 

Lena sat at her desk, deep in thought under the muted lighting, and Kara was abruptly confronted with yet another part of herself. This one wasn’t so idealistic, so conscious, or so rational at all—it was the part of herself that Red K had exploited.

_I don't care if you make this rotten and poisonous, Lena._

_I want you to be as ruthless as you are._

_I want you to push me in every way you know how._

_I want you._

Kara took a steady, focused breath, and she vowed not to be afraid of this part of herself anymore, either.

Lena looked up at her from the desk then, and in the moment that followed—with the twitch of Lena’s lips, the glint in her eye—Kara knew that what should have happened years ago would happen tonight. 

_If you decide to come back, I don’t want arguments. And we won’t stop._

The brunette’s lips parted.

“You continue to surprise me, Kara.” 

She said it softly, though not tenderly, as Kara wrangled her emotions and stepped forward.

“You say that,” she replied, her voice smoothing to match Lena’s, “but I have a feeling you’re not actually that surprised.”

Lena rose and planted her hands on the desk as the Kryptonian approached. Her white dress shirt creased through the arms and shoulders. 

“Why wouldn’t I be surprised to see you?” she wondered, the question lightly backhanded. “Earning my forgiveness requires investment and stomach, and you've shown me neither.”

“You might want to reconsider using a stomach-related idiom with me,” Kara parried. Her smile was guarded. “And maybe you should also consider that when I believe in doing something, I can be very determined to follow through on it.”

Listening to her verbal jabs, Lena grinned.

“Yes, I remember,” she returned coolly. “One of your more admirable qualities.”

Kara studied her for a moment. “I didn’t know you thought I had any.” 

At that, the other woman maintained an aloof, noncommittal silence. 

As Kara advanced deeper into the office, she glanced toward the dimly-lit balcony and skyline. The lighting highlighted the edge of her jaw. 

“You installed the balcony door,” she observed. “Looks nice.” 

“I did,” Lena acknowledged, watching the Kryptonian carefully, “so feel free to use it coming in and out. The design allows it to swing more than one way, of course. Quite practical and…fitting, wouldn’t you say?” 

Her eyes glittered. Kara turned back and regarded her evenly. 

“I guess so.”

Lena frowned then, appraising the blonde. “You guess so?” 

Kara shrugged. 

“Yeah, why? Does it matter to you who I have sex with?”

“Not at all,” Lena held her gaze, “but _I guess so_ doesn’t convey the sense that you enthusiastically embrace it. Are you…afraid of doing that, too?”

Now annoyed, Kara narrowed her eyes and stepped up to the desk, facing the brunette and her games. 

“I don’t know why you feel the need to comment on it, but I do embrace it. I’m not a coward or a prude. Whatever you have in mind, I’m here,” she asserted, swallowing, “I’m willing. So let’s do this.”

Lena’s eyes rested on hers, steady and calm. 

“Are you in a hurry?”

“No, I’m just not afraid. I’m ready to get to whatever it is you want, Lena.”

“Well,” she murmured, “maybe what I want is to take my time, Kara. Some things are better when we do them slowly. Don’t you agree?”

Kara struggled to discern whether she felt fear or arousal as she searched the other woman's face. Lena only smiled.

“But if you’re so ready…I don’t see why we can’t at least begin,” the brunette conceded. Her voice changed slightly then, gaining a note of cold professionalism. “Normally, of course, I prefer to do any business I have at my desk…but the couch is where you fucked me over that night, so that’s where I’d like to return the favor.”

Lena gestured to the piece of furniture in question. Kara swallowed again, then twisted to look at it. A tingle of anticipation went headlong down her body.

_It’s not enough anymore to manage, to survive, to play it safe._

She steeled herself, then turned, following Lena’s unspoken direction. Her sandals quietly slapped the floor as she walked to the couch, and she noticed for the first time that the coffee table had been offset from it.

“Face the wall,” Lena instructed from the desk.

The Kryptonian did as she was told.

She heard Lena slide open a drawer, and her sense of hearing unconsciously sharpened, picking up the sounds of soft scuffling and scraping. Her mind started to spin with speculation. Would Lena take out the Kryptonite knife?

Kara listened closely, but the sound profile didn't match. Was Lena planning on being violent? Did she have other weapons in the drawer? Or other…other tools to use?

Her eyes widened. Lena had access to all kinds of materials, not just Kryptonite, and Kara guessed that it wouldn’t be difficult for her to modify them. She could have produced anything she wanted for this, for whatever she wanted to do with Kara—some restraints or cuffs infused with Kryptonite, or a whip, cane, or a crop laced with it, or—or—

She inhaled forcefully to clear a series of escalating images from her mind. She was well aware they weren’t Lena’s doing, they were entirely her own, and her face heated with embarrassment as she stared at the wall. 

Did she believe she deserved punishment because of what she’d done?

What she’d done to Mon-El? 

What she’d done to Lena?

Both?

She didn’t know, and she was so preoccupied with her own thoughts that she hardly noticed the rustling become quiet. When she finally gathered enough nerve to turn a little and investigate exactly what Lena had been doing across the room, the other woman didn’t stop her, and none of the things she had pictured materialized. 

Kara’s eyes caught the desk first. On it, Lena’s dark pants sat neatly folded, her heels placed beside them. 

At the side of the desk, Lena stood still and matter-of-fact, barefoot on the polished floor, and the rest of her was very…visible.

Kara felt her jaw loosen. 

Memories of their friendship started to shift out of phase. Her eyes fell, recognizing what she’d been given glimpses of during their lunches, walks in the park, and late-night interviews: the bones of Lena’s ankles, the lines of her shins, the contour of her knees. These evoked in Kara a searing feeling of nostalgia, sadness, and longing. The nostalgia, of course, disappeared the higher her eyes rose, the less familiar Lena became. When Kara's gaze arrived at the other woman's rich, solid thighs, it lingered.

And though Lena kept her expression imperious, even haughty, there was a light interest in her eyes. She smirked as Kara encountered the black leather harness at her hips; the blonde blinked at it a few times, and took an extended moment to move on, move up. 

Lena’s starched white dress shirt now hung free and unbuttoned from her shoulders, its sleeves rolled up her forearms. It rested in such a way, loose around her body, that it exposed a significant portion of the silken black bra beneath it. Kara refused to stare any more than she already had. Her gaze stubbornly trailed up her ex-best friend’s very exposed neck. 

Their eyes finally met. Lena’s smirk widened a little. Kara turned back to the wall and tried to recover herself. 

The brunette's voice came back to her composed, unaffected.

“I’m just trying to make it easier on you, Kara,” she said.

Kara closed her eyes. 

_How?_

She didn’t ask it—she wasn’t sure she actually wanted an answer. She heard Lena reach once more into the drawer, and then close it. Her footsteps padded softly across the tile. There was a pause as she finished preparing the harness. 

“You’ll need to remove your clothes…”

 _Of course_ , Kara thought. _She wants to watch, not participate._

Disappointment settled in her chest, unexpected and awkward. She made the mistake of noticeably hesitating before turning around again; she was distracted by an impulse to ask Lena to help her, just so the other woman might touch her, might share a moment with her—acknowledge their past connection. 

When Kara did turn, she saw the faint amusement on Lena’s face, her ruthlessness on full display. Arousal started to supersede her disappointment. Her eyes dropped briefly to the harness and its equipment, considering. 

“Do you keep those…supplies in your drawer all the time?”

The brunette gave her a shrewd look. “If by _supplies_ , you mean the harness and dildo...I would say that's privileged information.”

Kara licked her lips, feeling somewhat out of her depth. Lena glanced down pointedly.

“Will this satisfy you, Kara?”

The Kryptonian took another moment to study and then cleared her throat. “I think so. If you use it effectively.”

She lifted her eyes and held Lena’s.

"I will," the other woman assured her, voice low. "Now take off your clothes."

Kara complied, beginning by taking her hair down. She slipped off her t-shirt and sandals, and then stripped out of her sweats, leaving herself there in athletic, no-frills lingerie. Her blonde hair cascaded in uncontrolled waves across her shoulders. She inhaled deeply, and then slipped off her bra. Her breasts fell against the cool air of the office. 

She did not hide her confidence as she stood; she felt the strength and beauty in her body, and she rested in years of experience—even if not with another woman, even if not with Lena. Her fingers pulled the sleek band at her hips downward just a bit more slowly, a bit more gradually, than absolutely necessary. She waited until the fine material succumbed to gravity, and then she stepped away, naked.

Lena’s eyes swept down her body just once, with care, as if she were sizing up a prototype in her lab. 

They returned to Kara’s smoothly. 

“I need you to kneel.”

She gestured to the couch, but Kara blinked, slightly confused.

“Face the wall again,” Lena elaborated quietly. 

It was the first and only time Kara sensed a hint of sympathy. She knew better than to comment on it; she turned, and her knees hit the immaculate leather of the couch.

Lena approached her from behind. She leaned in, lifting Kara’s forearms so they rested on the back of the couch—where there was a convenient gap from the wall. 

“As I said, I wanted to make it easier for you,” Lena murmured, subtly pitching Kara forward with her hands and body. “I thought this arrangement might be more familiar…”

Kara kept her eyes on the wall, vulnerable to the brush of the other woman’s starched shirt, the silky material of the bra against her back, and the occasional grazes of the harness. 

It wasn’t familiar. At no time in her life had she put herself in a position like this—for anyone. 

She had a feeling Lena knew it. 

“…and though part of me thinks you'd benefit from having your ass handed to you, I decided to keep this more traditional,” the brunette went on, pulling away. She placed her palms experimentally on Kara’s hips, then slid them inwards toward her spine, and several inches higher, learning the lay of her body.

Kara tried not to shiver or arch into her hands.

“Of course, we can still forget about it...” the brunette reminded her, pausing.

_I can’t forget about it._

_I don’t want to forget about it. Not again._

Kara chewed the inside of her cheek, the words sharp in her throat. 

“No. Do it.”

Lena moved more fully against the Kryptonian. “Then keep your eyes on the wall, and your hands to yourself.”

Kara inhaled at the cool touches of the harness and the dildo. Lena’s hand continued to drift over her back, encouraging the warm buzz of readiness in her body. When the brunette used her other hand to guide the toy, she quickly discovered for herself how ready Kara was.

She let out a low laugh. 

“Kara,” she murmured, half-chiding, “were you always this wet around me?”

Kara swallowed an answer. She felt Lena rock back and forth, and her breath caught; she tried to hold still as the toy acquired a slight coating. 

After a few moments Lena moved away. She took another moment to gauge, then gripped the dildo and leaned into the blonde. Kara blinked, adjusting, as Lena pressed her for a moment.

“You’re tight,” Lena said. Her free hand continued to stroke Kara’s back. “Relax.”

Kara felt a thrill break outward from the brunette's fingers, making that difficult. She slid her knees further apart to try to correct for the position. 

“I'm okay, you can just…just...” 

“I _could_ just,” Lena interrupted, glaring at the back of the Kryptonian’s head, “but when has brute force ever interested me, Kara? That's not what this is. Take me as slowly as you want.”

Kara bit her lip at the other woman's shamelessness. She felt more of the toy slip inside her. 

“It’s this position,” the blonde tried to explain, staring at the wall, “it’s not what I…I’m not…”

A smile formed on Lena’s lips. “Not a fan? Or not very familiar after all?” 

Kara winced at the reminder of past experience.

“Both,” she whispered.

_But it feels so good right now._

Lena’s smile widened, a flash of white teeth against crimson. Her eyes flickered over the Kryptonian’s shoulder and to the empty space on her ring finger.

“Well, that's a shame,” she murmured, smug and mischievous. Her fingertips played along Kara's spine. “I'm confident we'll improve your enjoyment tonight—unless, of course, you're just too aware that this is a transaction, or it just feels too degrading, and you want me to stop…”

“Don’t stop,” the Kryptonian whispered roughly. She wanted more; she took the toy until she felt the warmth of the other woman’s skin, and had to bite back a moan. She could hear Lena smile.

“No? Do you _like_ this?” 

“Yes,” Kara breathed. 

“Mm, I had a feeling," Lena’s fingertips continued to glide over her back, "that there was something real in that meek, submissive reporter act.”

Kara’s cheeks turned hot.

Lena kept smiling as she withdrew a little, then thrusted lightly into the blonde.

The Kryptonian's face twisted with pleasure. She welcomed the slow, restrained rhythm Lena began, the muscles in her arms relaxing, her breathing deepening. She stared obediently at the blank wall in front of her, her imagination anything but obedient or blank. Her mind created beautiful images of Lena’s naked calves and quads flexing, her abs and ass tightening as she worked, her fingers spread on Kara’s back. They quickly intensified Kara's longing and ate away at her regard for the rules.

If she just ignored the rules, if she actually looked back…would Lena’s expression reveal focus and presence? Would it reveal that the only thing on Lena’s mind was Kara…even if this was all artificial?

Her questions were instantly interrupted when Lena thrusted deeper, suggestively, filling her. A soft, helpless sound of pleasure came from Kara's throat, loud enough that both women heard it in the silence.

Lena stiffened at it, her eyes drawn to Kara's arch—full enough to lift her head, showcasing the graceful lines of muscle in her back, highlighting the curve of her ass. 

It was distracting; she was _distracted_ , and a wave of unspeakable anger and loathing erupted in Lena’s chest as she realized it. 

So she refocused on this new knowledge of Kara, and fucked her harder. 

“ _Rao_ …”

The Kryptonian bent back into her, her breaths tighter and her fingers digging at the couch. Her head dropped again.

“It _should_ be your husband here,” Lena gripped her more firmly now, irritated, “or at least an alien, not your former best friend, not a human woman…”

Both women could hear the slick, profane sounds of the toy.

“…and of course,” Lena lowered her voice, “not a Luthor…”

“Why— _ah_ —why not?” Kara whispered. 

“You know why not.”

Her blonde locks swayed in rhythm. “Tell me…tell me why...”

“Because you’re a Super,” Lena snapped. “What would people say if they knew their beloved hero gave up her marriage, her morals, just because she wanted a Luthor to fuck her so badly?”

Some breathless Kryptonese word left Kara’s mouth.

“I mean, how hard up could you be, Kara?”

“I—” the blonde whispered, her knees digging into the couch, “—I won’t answer that…”

Lena’s fingers pressed harder into her skin. 

“Fine. Did you think about us fucking when we were friends?”

Kara’s moan sounded tortured. 

“I— _ah, yes_ …yes…”

“And is this as good as you imagined?” 

“No—” Kara choked, “—better…”

Lena saw one of Kara's hands fall from the couch and reach down, and she smirked.

“Always wanted to tell you to go fuck yourself," she growled, her legs and ass burning, "so go right ahead.”

The Kryptonian tightened around the toy, too absorbed now to care about the sounds coming out of her mouth. Lena watched her with full attention.

“Just do one more thing for me…” she murmured.

“Yes— _ah_ —” 

“Tell me you’re sorry…”

Kara’s entire body tensed. 

“Please—I’m sorry—I’m, _ah_ —”

“Will you make it up to me?”

“I swear— _yes_ —” Kara pleaded, “— _anything…_ ”

Lena’s voice was dangerously soft. 

“Just show me,” she gave it deep and hard, “how sorry you are, Kara…” 

So Kara did. 

Lena’s pale eyes darkened with relish as she watched the blonde quiver and flex uncontrollably, her whimpers incoherent and her free hand desperately clutching at black leather as she started to come. 

She continued to silently work Kara, studying her refined tendons and muscles, listening to the sound of her suppressed cries. This—rendering the Kryptonian powerless, leaving her both wanting and intimately knowing something she was unable to have—this was worth it all.

When the blonde’s body sagged at last, she withdrew slowly.

Her toy was glazed all down the shaft, and for one impulsive moment Lena was tempted to drop the harness and feel with her own hands what she had done—and show Kara she could do it again. 

Then the blonde began to speak.

“I want you,” Kara asserted in a rush, turning herself around to actually face Lena. Her brain might have been addled by a foolish, faux-peaceful post-orgasm high. “You asked me what I want last time. This is what I want. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to admit it.”

_This is special._

“You’re married,” the brunette quickly reminded her, already walking away.She gave the hero no second glance. “The absence of a ring doesn’t change that.”

“We decided to separate.”

“And then you came here,” Lena retorted, throwing it over her shoulder.

Kara frowned. “What does that mean?”

Facing the brilliant night skyline, Lena stood behind her desk and loosened the straps of the harness. It dropped from her hips without fuss. The blonde’s eyes caught skin beneath the hem of Lena’s shirt, and she averted her gaze out of a reflexive, perhaps useless, sense of respect. 

Lena wiped the sheen of sweat from her forehead. She was shielded by her computer as she turned toward the office again. When she found the Kryptonian still standing there, she seemed annoyed. 

“It means you’re a fool, Kara,” she answered. Her eyebrows rose sharply. “You risked lighting your life on fire so I’d forgive you. Did you think coming here, in the middle of your crisis, and saying you want me would change something? That I would be impressed, or even care?” 

Kara’s face fell at her tone. “I came here because this is what you wanted.”

“Didn’t this entire arrangement happen because of what _you_ wanted?” Lena snapped, turning the tables. “ _You_ wanted my forgiveness, so here it is: you’re forgiven, Kara. And I hope that makes you feel better. But it doesn’t mean we’re friends and allies again—or anything else—because you have regrets, or this epiphany, or whatever. We’re finished now. I got what I wanted.”

Her expression was completely smooth. Kara felt like she’d swallowed fifty rocks. 

“Right,” she mumbled. “You did.”

Her eyes fell away. The worries and injuries of the night sank right back onto her shoulders, heavy, dense. She fought the urge to argue or show any further emotion. 

_Accept what is true. For her. For you._

Still nude, she rose and slowly gathered her clothes from the floor to change. 

Lena watched, and derived some admittedly petty satisfaction from the slightly disheveled state of her hair. It was symbolic of the mess Kara was, plus how well she’d been fucked. The Kryptonian’s expression was so stiff that it was almost too easy to read the pain in it.

 _I’m done here_. 

As Kara finished, Lena stood there expectantly, ready to watch her slink away, tail between her legs, like she’d done every time before. 

She was caught by surprise when the blonde turned to her and met her eyes.

“I wanted your forgiveness,” Kara admitted quietly, with a charge in the words that Lena felt across the room. “But that’s not the only reason I came here.” 

Her eyes were solid, clear as water. 

“I came here because I _am_ in the middle of a crisis. I’ve settled, I’ve gotten complacent. I lost you years ago, and I don’t think my life has been completely right since. I’m sorry I ever let that happen. I’m sorry I never tried to talk to you again. You deserved to hear from me, to hear me say so many things. You weren’t wrong when you called me a coward. But I’m going to be stronger now—whether you see it or not, whether you care or not. It's for me. I’m ready to talk whenever you are. And no matter what you do or say to me, I will never not be here for you if you need me.”

Kara shot her a parting look and walked away. 

For a few minutes, Lena stood in her empty, cold office, processing, and then she shook her head.

“Well, good for you,” she finally murmured, “and good thing I don’t need you.”


	9. A Super Has To Show A Luthor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just an FYI, there are several more chapters, and they’re going to get a bit longer in a minute. They'll take me longer to revise, and my time is more limited this new year as well. I’ll still complete the story, it’ll just take me extra time to upload. :(

Kara absently slipped past security and ducked out of L Corp’s main concourse. 

She kept her head down as she trudged along one of the cracked, stained sidewalks leading away from National City’s business district. She passed groups of people here and there, half-hearing them laughing around her, half-hearing cars rolling by, half-hearing the buzz of neon lights at pubs and shops as colors flickered across her skin. She inhaled the muddled city air. It tasted acrid in her mouth. Every several steps, a cool breeze passed, filling the pockets of midnight stillness and silence. Kara remained unmoved by the urban landscape until the wailing of sirens broke in from a distance—when finally she registered the urge to tune in, the urge to help. 

She kept walking.

She walked until she stood at the door of an apartment that no longer felt like a shared space, an _our_ space, and tried to get a grip on reality as she stared at it.

Even if her emotions told her the truth, to look at this place as something other than her home seemed too difficult, too foreign for her mind. It was the same apartment it had always been, the exact same physical space. _Except it’s ground zero now_ , she remembered, thinking of the look on Mon-El's face, _it’s a place where I store what I own, a glorified utility shed. That’s what I’ve turned it into._

She stalled in the hallway, trying to get the muscles in her shoulders and arms to relax. They refused. Her stomach felt like a frayed string. Her thighs and calves tensed under the energy circulating in her blood. And worst of all, her skin burned in the places Lena had touched her—as if she’d been given a branding, and it was still cooling off. 

The number on the door hung in front of her, mocking her.

Kara squeezed her eyes shut and tried to suppress the urge to take her energy and hit something. She realized, extremely belatedly, that Alex had been right. Staying here tonight was a terrible idea. There was no longer going to be a sense of safety or ease here. Even if Mon-El wasn’t inside, she couldn’t go into the apartment tonight, not feeling like this. Not knowing what she’d done. 

She fished her phone from her pocket. 

**KARA** (23:32): _Are you still awake? Can I come over?_

 **——— ALEX** (23:32): _Of course! Everything okay?_

 **KARA** (23:33): _Yes. I’ll tell you more when I get there. I don’t want to text about it._

 **——— ALEX** (23:33): _Okay. Door’s unlocked._

 **KARA** (23:33): _Be there soon._

As she headed out, she avoided using bursts of speed and flight again, and just as before, no one batted an eye at a blonde, human-looking woman in sweatpants. She took several moments to savor the lack of attention as she walked. If there was any night she should be treated like a nobody, it was this one. She already felt that way herself—like a blank space existed where, for years now, she’d had a solid, defined sense of her identity.

In the coldness and starkness of the night, she gradually began to realize how much she stung. She couldn’t tell if it was with pain or with pleasure; this emergence of some deep part of her felt freeing, and it felt excruciating.

A certain pride and strength flickered in her. _This is who I am and what I am willing to take._ She'd told the truth and embraced what she wanted with both hands, despite the outcome, and the peace of acceptance blossomed in her steps. But that acceptance also meant recognizing that she'd slit the throat of her marriage, and that Lena seemed unaffected by anything, entirely unwilling to take her own risks. And Kara had hardly considered what her life was about to look like. Would she live in the same apartment? How would they split up their things? What would she tell everyone? Divorce seemed guaranteed after tonight, but it still felt unbelievable, unthinkable. She’d never planned for this. 

_No one does,_ she reminded herself. She sighed as old memories and dreams floated up through the crevices of her mind. Most just seemed painful now, and she was inundated with the feeling of loss and brokenness. She tried to breathe, to let them come and go without dwelling or fixating. But one memory arose from their earliest days together, a memory that included someone who wasn't Mon-El, and that one just wouldn't leave.

Kara knew this was probably because the person in her memory had more experience with divorce than anyone else she knew, and could likely tell her a thing or two about it.

She reached into her pocket again and pulled up the contacts, her thumb hovering over a brightly haloed _Cat Grant._ She realized she missed her mentor now, profoundly, and that Cat would probably have helpful thoughts not just on divorce, but on the situation as a whole. After a moment of debate, Kara bit her lip and hit the screen.

 **KARA** (23:42) **:** _I have a situation._

 **——— CAT** (23:45) **:** _Work or personal?_

 **KARA** (23:45) **:** _Personal._

 **——— CAT** (23:46) **:** _You have one minute. Go._

Kara’s immense gratitude for a response was quickly overwhelmed by her nervousness to tell Cat the actual details of what was happening. She bit her lip harder, and blurted out the most immediate thing first.

 **KARA** (23:47): _I think I may be going through a divorce soon._

Her phone vibrated with a reply.

 **——— CAT** (23:47): _And you want a veteran’s perspective, I assume. What happened?_

Kara hesitated. Even if it was relatively simple, she needed a second for...this.

 **KARA** (23:47): _There was…another woman…_

She winced at her own wording. 

**——— CAT** (23:48): _So the bastard cheated on you. Be free. Take his money and a vacation. Do not tell me you interrupted my work to blubber about your tortured feelings, or about forgiving him, Kira._

Kara winced again. _Why wouldn't Cat make the assumption?_ she thought, slowly typing at the screen. _It's okay. I just have to tell her. Cat is a powerful woman who appreciates other women. She won’t care that I'm the one who's interested in another woman..._ Still, she erased a few words, then typed in new ones, and briefly thought about letting Cat mistakenly think her assumption was true. It would be a lot easier.

 _Chop chop_ , Cat’s voice snapped in her head. She closed her eyes, willed herself to do it, and swiftly pressed _send._

 **KARA** (23:48): _Actually…I was the one who cheated on him._

She held her breath as she waited, hoping this wouldn’t end with a concise and cutting barrage of disappointment from her mentor.

 **——— CAT** (23:49): _Well._

Kara stared at the word for several seconds.

 _Well…what?_ She stared intently at Cat’s one-word response, biting her cheek now at the silence. It took the older woman another minute to respond. 

**——— CAT** (23:50): _I’m dying to know who persuaded my principled ex-protégé to engage in adultery. She must be special._

Kara frowned at the screen, then stopped walking to reread the reply. Twice.

 **KARA** (23:51): _Aren't you…surprised?_

 **——— CAT** (23:51): _That you had an extramarital affair of some kind? Yes, I am. That you're interested in women, no. I’m not dense, Kira. Or blind, for that matter._

Kara was baffled.

 **KARA** (23:51): _How did you know?_

 **——— CAT** (23:51): _Is that really your question right now? I have work to do._

Grimacing at the rebuke, Kara focused again.

 **KARA** (23:52): _Sorry. This woman and I were good friends, we became estranged because I lied about who I was. Recently I saw her again, and she helped me realize I’m not where I want to be. I’m trying to be more honest, to be brave again and willing to dive, like you told me. But she’s still angry over the past and doesn’t trust me. I get it, I just can’t completely give up on working things out. I know I can’t force it either. I’ve managed to upend my life over this, and a small part of me feels like an idiot…_

 **——— CAT** (23:53): _If you want to waste someone's time with hand-wringing, the email address for Dear Abby is a Google search away._

 **——— CAT** (23:53): _I'm only going to say this once. You’re an idiot when you ignore your instincts. They’re good, as I’ve told you. If this woman reminded you to follow them, I approve._

 **KARA** (23:53): _But they point me back to her, and she won't really talk to me..._

 **——— CAT** (23:54): _So pursue her. Carefully. And show her. My therapist, irritating and expensive as she is, prattles on endlessly about this. When one person in a relationship changes, and persists in their change, whoever else is in the relationship reacts. They also change._

 **——— CAT** (23:54): _Of course, you can't control how this woman changes in response to you. It may be internal, small, very gradual change. You may not see it. But according to the theory, something will change, so if I were you, I'd look for opportunities to show up with your change. And examine what happens to the dynamic._

Kara felt a small smile tug across her face at Cat's straightforward encouragement.

 **KARA** (23:55): _I was afraid you’d tell me I’m just wasting my time. Thanks, Ms. Grant._

 **——— CAT** (23:55): _Don't be ridiculous. You felt strongly enough to compromise your ethics, I doubt this is a waste of time. But it won’t be easy. She'll resist and try to pull you into the familiar pattern. Don't let her._

 **——— CAT** (23:55): _Also, it’s Cat. I won’t tell you again._

 **KARA** (23:56): _Sorry._

 **——— CAT** (23:56): _You’re not. Good night, Kira. And keep me updated, for God’s sake. Preferably not with midnight texts. Your etiquette is atrocious._

 **KARA** (23:56): _I will, and I’m sorry. Good night...Ms. Grant._

 **——— CAT** (23:57): _There was a time when I could compel you to follow instructions. I miss that time._

 **KARA** (23:57): _How else am I going to repay you for all the times you said my name incorrectly?_

She grinned for the first time in several hours, and barely resisted the urge to insert a smiley—that would further irritate Cat. She kept walking. A minute later, her hand vibrated again.

 **——— CAT** (23:58): _Touché. I’ll allow it. For now._

 **——— CAT** (23:58): _By the way, I’m not unaware that you’ve avoided revealing the identity of this woman. I’ll respect your privacy, it’s none of my business, etc., but I am curious…and I promise it wouldn’t hurt you in any way to indulge my curiosity, Kara._

 **——— CAT** (23:59): _Who is she?_

Kara's fleeting positivity melted into a twinge in her chest as she stared at the message. It brought to mind that time they'd gone for drinks at the bar, and then some of their late-night chats on Cat’s balcony, and even the moment she’d saved Cat’s life in the elevator. She tried to imagine Cat at some stately desk, surrounded by paperwork...yet focused on her phone, making a point to return to this particular question in lieu of pressing government work. She frowned again.

 _Why so curious?_ she almost typed back. 

_How did you know I was interested in women? Why did you avoid answering that question?_

_What were you not blind to?_

She had some vague suspicion, thanks to her instincts, but it was too late—too late at night, and too late in the progression of their lives—to bring up something that couldn’t have been in the first place. 

**KARA** (00:00): _Someday, Cat._

True to the former CEO’s word, Kara’s phone went quiet. She had arrived at Alex and Maggie’s door anyways, which rudely snapped her back to the present. She had another predicament to face.

Taking a deep breath, she let herself in.

“Hey,” Alex said softly from the couch, Maggie snuggled in next to her. 

Both women rose to give her a hug. Their comfort began on the surface of Kara’s skin, warming her, and soon moved deeper, finding its way into her muscles and heart. It was exactly what she had been craving. She began to relax into their arms, and no one uttered a word for what felt like several minutes. 

“We have snacks,” Alex eventually whispered. “And movies. We set up the couch so you can crash if you want, and we even gave you the good pillow...”

Kara snorted a laugh into her sister’s hair, trying to hold back the start of tears. “Thank you. And thank you for waiting up. My emotions are just—I think they’re all hitting me.” 

They pulled away together, and Maggie’s eyes shone kindly. “I bet they are. You must be exhausted. You’ve been through a lot in a short amount of time.”

Kara blinked at the welling in her eyes and attempted a smile. _I'm about to go through more._

“I have to talk,” she said quietly, “there are some things I need to tell you, and not just about Mon-El. We should probably sit down.”

Nodding, Alex put an arm around her and gently guided her to the couch. When they settled in, Kara opened by recounting the beginning of the night, which was also the easiest place to start. She gave the highlights of her conversation with Mon-El and what she’d realized. She fell silent at some indeterminate point later, having finished what felt like rambling, and only then became aware that Alex was squeezing her tightly.

“I think it was the right thing to do,” Maggie offered, laying a hand on Kara’s knee, “but I know that doesn’t make it any easier, and I'm sorry this happened. I know you were feeling pretty guilty last time. I hope doing this at least eased your conscience.” 

“I still feel a little guilty,” Kara murmured. Her brows knitted. “I hurt him. I did this. And now I can't help thinking that if I'd just known earlier, or been open to knowing, I wouldn't—”

She sighed and put her head in her hands, feeling a sudden sense of despair at the mess she'd made.

“—I don't know, I wouldn't have lost years of my life...”

“Hey, you’re talking to the poster child for _if I'd just known earlier_ , okay?” Alex said. She smiled tenderly, trying to soothe the blonde. “I totally understand feeling like part of your life was off-course, Kara, but nothing is lost. This is just an ending. You’re transitioning. People figure out really important things at awkward, inconvenient times. And for a while the realization feels like the worst thing ever, but I promi—”

Maggie smacked Alex across the arm. “Are you calling me the worst thing ever, Danvers?”

“Of course not, you were definitely the best thing ever,” Alex rolled her eyes, grinning now. “But meeting you and understanding myself better caused everything to change. It was an adjustment.”

The detective shifted to look at Kara. “I agree with that, and I know adjustment can sometimes include losing people, even family. Maybe this isn't exactly about coming out for you, but you telling the truth is causing a similar shockwave.”

Kara frowned as she considered their input.

“How do you not see part of your life as a lie, Alex? I can't help wondering if my marriage was a lie, because I—” she fought to say her nagging, secret thoughts out loud, “—I had this feeling like somehow Mon-El doesn’t… _know_ me. How am I married to someone who doesn’t know me? How did _I_ not know me?”

“I don’t think any of it was a _lie_ ,” Alex replied. “It was as real as it could be. Maybe you just didn’t understand what else there could be until…well, until you reconnected with Lena.”

Kara’s chest remained heavy. “I think there were signs. I should have known…”

“No,” her sister gently argued. “You couldn’t know you until you had a different experience. Just like I couldn’t know I was a lesbian until I knew, until I met Maggie and faced it. No blame or judgments for yourself. It’s okay.”

She rubbed Kara’s arm in the ensuing silence. Maggie attempted to lighten the mood.

“Speaking of Lena...what’s going on with you two?” she asked, nudging the blonde playfully. “You haven’t said anything since you went to apologize and ended up kissing each other. Is that still happening?”

Kara fidgeted with the drawstring on her sweats, and then remembered her determination to be stronger. 

“About that…” she said, the heat in her cheeks already rising. “I’m just going to come out and say this. So here we go. Lena and I had sex tonight.”

Alex’s eyes almost popped out of her head. 

“Wait, you had _what_ tonight?” her sister exclaimed. 

Kara winced as they both stared at her. 

“I was…getting around to telling you,” she explained, slightly flustered by their shock. “I know I told you I was at home tonight, but I wasn't.”

Maggie didn’t even try to hold back her smirk; it beamed from her face.

“Kara Danvers. What a badass,” she said, barely coughing back a laugh. “I was not expecting that. But maybe I should have. Once Alex figured out what she wanted, she moved pretty fast on me. Maybe it runs in the family.” 

Alex didn’t even retaliate. She kept her eyes on her sister and searched the blonde’s expression with hurt and disappointment. “Kara, you lied to me?”

Kara’s face pinched. This was the look she hated. “Yes. I went out.”

“I know this is a serious moment, I do, but you also "went out" for a tryst with _Lena Luthor_ ,” Maggie prodded, “please tell us _what happened_.” 

“It’s not exactly like what either of you are thinking,” Kara said. She squirmed on the couch. “I couldn’t stand being alone in the apartment after telling Mon-El, and I didn’t tell you, Alex, because I didn’t want to have a whole discussion about it. I was just tired of being scared, or being… _static._ I wanted to do something.”

Alex’s look took on confusion in addition to her hurt and disappointment. “I guess I just didn’t know you were _that_ …sure…so soon. That you would just go to her and…”

Kara nodded, and prepared to confess the rest.

“I went to her because it’s what I should have done a long time ago. It’s what I wanted. But I haven't told you that she’s not in the same place. She doesn't trust me, and she didn’t care about the sex. It wasn’t real, it was just…I think it was revenge. She wanted to hurt me. And I know it was stupid to think—”

“Wait,” Alex cut in sharply. “This isn’t adding up. The last time you talked to me, you said you argued over what happened between you two, even though you've been making out, and that she couldn’t forgive the past. Right? So how did it become _sex_ and also _hurting_ you, on purpose…for _revenge_?” 

Kara knew that tone and those unforgiving eyes. Her sister was working out how she could find Lena and have some words, or maybe more than just words. She scrambled to explain. 

“Because I’ve avoided telling you what her part has been. When I went back to apologize the first time, she asked me to kiss her. That was the only way she’d continue to see me or consider forgiving me. It was sex last night. And this wasn't just about what happened with the Red K, it was tied into everything that happened in the past. I think she's striking a sensitive area for me, just like I did to her. It was a lesson. And it’s done now,” she shook her head, imploring Alex to understand. “I know it’s not totally okay, but I’ve been okay with it. Maybe that means something, but it—”

The two women sat beside her with very different reactions as they put the pieces together. 

“—it doesn’t matter, it’s over now,” Kara reiterated. 

Predictably, Alex exploded. 

“It _absolutely_ matters! I don’t care how you feel or felt about her or what unfinished business you have, she—well, she took advantage of you!” the agent cried, her eyes blazing daggers. “Her inability to get past what happened years ago doesn’t give her the right to hurt and manipulate you. I can’t _believe_ she would actually demand that you break your marriage vows in exchange for—what, just not being an _asshole_ to you? Letting you come by? How cold and spiteful and _cruel_ can you—”

“Alex, hold on for just a second,” Maggie interrupted softly. “I know you're angry, and you're allowed to be, but before you argue, I think Kara said something important. What _does_ it mean that you were okay with it, Kara? What made you let Lena in like that?”

At Maggie's question, Kara’s annoyance with her sister’s reaction vanished. She’d been preparing to defend herself, not share some deep part of herself, and her mouth quickly became sticky. 

“Well, I—I feel like I didn’t even let her in,” she started, swallowing. “I’ve never _had_ to “lether in,” she’s just _been_ there. And I know how much I _miss_ her being there. I don't usually talk about these kinds of things, but...tonight, while we were having sex, I didn’t even care about the forgiveness or the fact that it was a transaction, I just—” she began to whisper, “—I just wantedher to have everything. I’ve never had sex like that with anyone. I’ve never even _wanted_ sex like that with anyone…”

Maggie shot a _don’t you dare interrupt her_ look at Alex as the blonde stared intently at the coffee table. 

“This is the only way she’s given me to make amends for hurting her,” Kara went on. “And if I have to get hurt for there to be any chance of changing our relationship, so be it. I can accept that. I can’t accept not trying to fix this. That was my mistake last time.”

Alex stiffened with anger against Kara. 

“But nothing’s going to change between you two unless _she_ changes, and it’s _not_ your job to suffer until she does, Kara,” she argued. “No matter how much you believe in her. You suffering won't change her. And she’s holding all the cards, isn't she? You said she doesn’t care about you, and she got her revenge tonight. Why would she even talk to you again? Or if she does, how do you know she won’t just keep trying to manipulate you for her own ends because she knows she can?”

“I don’t know,” Kara replied evenly. “I realize there’s a risk, and I'm glad there is. Being safe has been my mistake for years now. Doing this was as much for me as it was for her. And if she doesn’t talk to me again, fine. I’ve been pretty good at being single. I just—I can’t settle anymore. I’m changing, I’m trying. And because I can change, I believe she can still change. Please try to understand.”

“I’m just worried about you, Kara,” Alex said at length, her face tight. “None of this is like you—to lie to me, to have sex like this, to let someone treat you so callously. It sounds like blackmail. You don’t deserve this treatment.”

The Kryptonian pursed her lips, unsure what to tell her sister.

“Maybe I don’t deserve this,” she murmured, “and maybe I do. We can argue about who deserves what all night. Either way, I accept what’s happening.”

“You sound clearer,” Maggie calmly chimed in, hoping to break the tension. “I don’t think you should get _reckless_ , but I know you’ve always cared about Lena, believed in her, and—” she grinned, her dimples showing, “—well, you’ve been a bit reckless on Ms. Luthor’s behalf before, haven't you? And it's not like she’s, _ahem_ , attached to anyone, either. By the way.”

Kara’s eyes narrowed with suspicion as she looked at the detective. “Did you…research that?” 

“I might’ve had some extra time and curiosity,” Maggie replied, trying not to smile. “She’s been linked to a couple of men—nothing serious—and there were some rumors that one or two of her female friends were more than friends. But my sources tell me she hasn’t dated anyone, officially, for at least two years.” 

“Please don’t encourage this,” Alex muttered, shaking her head.

“Why not? This is the most certain and heartfelt string of declarations I’ve heard from Kara in a long time,” Maggie insisted. Her eyes were clear as she regarded the redhead. “You may not agree with the situation, but I think you have to agree with the effect it's having. When was the last time you saw this light in her eyes, Alex?”

Kara felt a brief flash of hope. “So you’re saying you’re supportive?”

Maggie glanced at Alex.

“I am. I believe in the Danvers magic.”

Alex shook her head again at the detective. 

“I can’t believe you’re so ready to support this,” she sighed, troubled. She turned to her sister and gave her a grim look. “I get that it’s your choice, Kara. I just have serious reservations about it. I’m your sister, I’m always going to want you to be happy and healthy, and this—this thing doesn’t sound healthy. Not how you just described it. I’ll try to be supportive, and I’ll try to respect whatever you say you want. But I’m telling you right now, it’s not going to be pretty if I find out Lena is continuing to hurt you. You know I’m not afraid of her.”

Kara met Alex’s eyes. She tried to quell her own defensiveness and focus on the genuine concern under her sister’s words. 

“I’ll be careful. Please don’t do anything stupid, Alex. Let me deal with this. I’m thankful enough for you listening and being here,” Kara said, glancing back toward Maggie. “Both of you.” 

Alex was quiet.

“What are you going to do now?” Maggie asked.

Kara considered that. She didn’t know when she’d see Lena again; the other woman had rather flatly dismissed her and implied there was little reason for them to see each other. _But she also installed the balcony door, which means she can’t be entirely opposed to visits. At least from Supergirl._

She sighed, remembering what Cat had said, and finally reached for a potsticker on the coffee table.

“I don’t know, I’m still processing. I told Lena that I was changing, becoming stronger going forward. I think all I can do is look for opportunities to show her that...”

Maggie laughed next to her as she chewed. “You know,” she said, a twinkle in her eyes, “it’s interesting that this time around, a Super has to show a Luthor that they’ve changed. I hope you’re up for that fight.”

Kara swallowed her bite. “I will be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N2: Big hello from Cat Grant! :) I wasn't going to include her, but she marched her way right in, as she does. And with this change in momentum, we're disengaging from Kara's arc. We'll finally dip toes into Lena's POV, so some of the questions about where she's at mentally and WTF her problem is will be answered. :)


	10. The Only Thing Worse Than Hate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I can’t believe people enjoyed last chapter, I thought you’d all be bored! I suspected some of you would cheer for Alex’s (needed) input, and others would like Cat’s advice. Almost makes me sorry we’re moving away from Kara, but welcome to Lena’s POV. :)

For some twenty years now, a call from her mother had been a guarantee that her day was about to get worse.

Her cell unexpectedly lit up with Lillian’s name just before lunch. It jackhammered atop her desk, oblivious to the work she was in the middle of completing. Her fingers tightened on the proposal in her hand as the vibrating continued. 

Exasperated, yet equally sure she’d regret it if she let her mother go to voicemail, she snatched the device and swiped to pick up.

“Lena,” she heard Lillian drawl into the phone. Her attempt at warmth sounded tepid. “It’s been too long...”

The younger Luthor rolled her eyes, and then rolled away from her desk. 

“Mother,” she replied. She glanced out the window at National City’s overcast skies, prepared for another ill-fated conversation. “What is it you want?”

“Do I have to want something?” Lillian deflected. The question brimmed with studied nonchalance, and Lena started to feel uneasy as she went on. “We haven’t just…caught up with one another in some time. I thought we might chat.”

_With you it’s never just chatting._

“I’m afraid I don’t have time at the moment,” Lena countered, her voice terse.

“Nonsense. Your health and well-being are very important. Take a break from work for five minutes and tell me how you are, my dear.”

Lena narrowed her eyes. “I’m fine. I’d be better if you got to the point. I know you have one, and I have work to do.”

A pointed second passed before Lillian spoke again. 

“Well, it's a shame you're too busy for your mother. But have it your way. I just thought there might have been some recent...excitement in your life.”

Lena sighed, irritated by the older woman’s roundabout fishing. She couldn't be referring to Kara, and was no doubt aware of the situation in orbit, the political unrest occurring throughout the country. Lena couldn't guess what other "excitement" she'd be referring to. 

“We had an anniversary not too long ago,” Lillian filled in, nudging her along. 

_We? Who is_ we, _exactly?_

Lena bit the thought back and waited. The other woman _tsk_ ed quietly into the phone. 

"Perhaps you remember your brother’s conviction date…?”

“ _Ah_. Yes, what a…pity,” Lena muttered, her sarcasm impossible to miss. “Did I forget to send him flowers and a card again? I never did check to see if any greeting card companies had added a collection for disgracing the family. Surely that kind of section would include cards with a _hope you’re enjoying your stay in prison_ sentiment...”

Lillian ignored her hostility, as usual. 

“You treat this lightly, Lena, but Lex has many fans,” she said, her voice remaining steady and deliberate over the line. “Especially now. What do you think all this pro-human sentiment and negative press for the aliens has done? It's positioned him as a leader again, even behind bars. And I know you refuse to believe I have your best interests at heart, dear, but I wanted to let you know that certain people are remembering your role in his trial.”

Lena’s jaw clenched. “Why don’t you just tell me what you’re implying, Mother?”

“I’m just expressing my concern,” she answered airily. “I think that you might want to be careful. Consider your safety.”

_And here I thought the part of my life I spent living under threat of assassination was finished._

“I’m always careful,” Lena said, just as flippantly, “Luthors don’t get a break. And we both know why _that_ is.”

“Because our family is full of revolutionaries,” the elder Luthor murmured. Her pride in that opinion was unapologetic. “Revolutionaries are by definition ahead of their time, and because of it, they’re punished, hunted, and killed by those who don’t understand their vision.”

“I know how keenly you want to believe that,” Lena scoffed, turning away from the darkening clouds and gleaming city to roll back to her desk. “Anyways, I appreciate the call. Was there anything else, or can I get back to work?”

“You can do whatever you like, of course.”

She could imagine Lillian’s supercilious look—her beady, hawkish eyes and smug smile. 

“Goodbye, then, Mother.”

“Be careful, dear,” the other woman warned her again.

When they disconnected, Lena shut her eyes against the natural light in the office and leaned back, thinking. 

The country and the world were facing a major change, and even National City had started experiencing a wave of unrest. News outlets reported daily calls from citizens to refuse alien refugees and support human supremacist movements. She had no reason to doubt that what her mother said was true, and that Lex or his lackeys were capable of carrying out a hit on her. 

She tried to ignore the fragmented flashbacks of Metallo and opened her eyes, focusing on her computer screen instead. It might help to find out how his followers could be organizing. But before she could begin to query the internet for leads, her phone vibrated again, signaling another call.

She glared down at the device in her hand as an unfamiliar number flashed across the screen. 

Her face morphed into a scowl. She hadn’t scheduled any calls, much less on her own cell—but anyone who had her personal number wouldn’t have it by accident. She accepted the call.

“Hello?” she answered curtly. An equally curt female voice responded to her. 

“Ms. Luthor. Do you have a moment?”

The CEO’s brow furrowed.

“May I ask who's calling?”

“Do you have a moment?” the woman firmly repeated. “I'd like your undivided attention for a—”

“If you know who I am—and I assume you do, given you’ve managed to obtain this number and correctly identify me—then you also know that my time is precious,” Lena interrupted, staring at the work on her desk, “and I don’t entertain or appreciate anonymous callers. So let’s try again: you tell me who you are and then what you want, and I won’t simply end this call now.”

Silence greeted her on the other end. For a moment Lena thought she would have to hang up, but then there was a response.

“We met a long time ago,” came the cool reply. “This is Alex Danvers.”

Lena paused and quickly placed her. 

_Kara’s sister. Physician, government agent. The first person to rescue me from Metallo._

“Yes, I remember you,” Lena finally murmured, already suspecting that this call was about Kara, and if it was about Kara, then that meant Alex was aware of what—

“Good. First things first. Kara doesn’t know that I’m calling you, and we’re going to keep it that way. Clear?” Alex’s voice had become harder, darker. “This is between you and me.”

Like Lillian, the agent sounded as if she took herself much too seriously on a regular basis, and Lena rolled her eyes for the second time in five minutes. 

“We’re very clear, Agent Danvers. What is it you’re calling in regards to?”

Alex didn't hesitate. “You know exactly what. This is your only warning. Do _not_ fuck with Kara.” 

Lena felt a slow smile cross her lips. This was going to be a very satisfying call.

“I’m sorry, I think you cut out,” she said, sliding her fingers along the surface of her desk. “Was that “don’t fuck _with_ Kara” or was it “don’t _fuck_ Kara,” Alex?”

She could almost feel the detonation on the other end.

“Preferably both,” Alex hissed.

“Well, I hear you, but Kara seems to enjoy coming here," Lena pointed out smoothly, "as I'm sure you're aware. She's an independent adult.”

“She’s also a good person,” the redhead snapped, “who, by the way, has never stopped believing in you. You can cut her off, you can play games and behave like this, and she'll still try with you. And that's the fundamental difference between you and her. You can justify it however you want, that's your business—but Kara deserves to be _loved_ , not to be someone’s revenge fantasy or toy. She deserves a love that’s whole and deep and pure, and she deserves it more than any other person I know on this planet—” 

At the sudden force of Alex’s sincerity, Lena blinked, her cold smile faltering as she absorbed the tirade.

“—and if you won’t do that—for whatever fucking reason, I don’t care—if you screw around, if you manipulate and hurt her again, after what she’s been through…” Alex took an ominous breath, “you know I have resources at my disposal. And I won’t be anywhere _near_ as generous with you as Kara is. I can end you.”

The implied threat to her life—which was mildly upsetting—should probably have been Lena's first thought, but her actual first thought turned out to be far more upsetting. 

_I wish I had a brother like this._

_I wish I had a_ family _like this._

_I wish—_

She immediately shoved those thoughts in their box; they were useless. 

“I think you’re forgetting that she hurt and manipulated me first, Alex. And for much longer than this. Not that Kara could ever do anything wrong in your eyes,” Lena finally responded, bitter. “Was that all you called to say?” 

“No,” the agent replied tightly. “Playing tit-for-tat is a shitty way to approach justice, and someone as intelligent as you should know that. It’s not some equal exchange here. Kara never intentionally tried to hurt you like you just tried to hurt her. There was a place in you that used to know that, and I hope for your sake that you can find it again. It should be where your heart was.”

The line went dead. Lena licked her lips as she stared at the couch.

“Intent and impact are two different things, Agent Danvers,” she said, pulling the phone from her ear. “It doesn’t matter what her intention was. It matters what she _did_.”

_What it did to me._

But Alex Danvers would never understand; it was wasted breath. She tossed the cell on her desk and stared at it, fully expecting it to go off again in another minute. _Why not have three threats in one day?_

And as if to manifest her thoughts, it started to rumble.

_For fuck’s sake._

She grabbed it again and was annoyed to find that, instead of the caller’s number, the word _Restricted_ flashed across the screen. Fed up, she forwarded the call to voicemail. Her eyes flickered to the office's muted TV and scanned the news.

Her phone buzzed with a message after a minute. She considered deleting it without even listening—but, perhaps out of a masochistic curiosity, or the impressive level of tolerance she’d established for people’s bullshit as a CEO, she tapped speakerphone, set it on her desk, and pressed play. An angry man’s voice blared into the room.

“I bet you think this is real fucking funny, Lena, real fucking delicious, because that’s just the heartless kind of bitch you and your whole family are. Congratulations.” 

Her eyebrows rose. She hadn’t gotten one of these voicemails in a long time.

“It must be real satisfying to excel not only at science and business, but also home-wrecking,” the man went on, giving away his identity. “What an accomplishment this must be for you. Kara might even want an interview for it so she can publish another article about you at Catco. But she’s so far up your ass that she’s already got the inside story, doesn’t she?”

Lena smirked. “Well, I believe _I_ actually have the, ah, inside story, but…”

“Can’t even say I’m surprised by your newest achievement, though. Home-wrecking is probably a natural talent for you. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree and all, right?” 

_Going after my dead mother, Mon-El? How classless. And yet so on-brand for you._

“But you know what? I don’t envy you, Lena. You’re a soulless, cold-blooded bitch, and she’s a naive, fence-sitting idealist. Just wanted to call and tell you good luck with that. I hope you’re happy with what you’ve done, what you’ve brought on yourself. And also, fuck you. Fuck you, Lena. She never once mentioned you in all the years since you two fell out. Not once. She doesn’t actually give a fuck about you. It was always about her and what she needed from you. You’re nothing to her, you conniving, sociopathic snake—” 

Lena couldn’t help it; she started chuckling as his monologue grew wildly ridiculous.

“—that’s why she never told you who she was, and you know it. But you were so desperate for friends that you thought she actually cared. So chew on that and have a nice life. Fuck you. Again. Fuck you. I hope your secretary puts Drano in your coffee tomorrow. I’d come by and do it myself, but you’re not even worth the effort, and karma’s an even worse bitch than you, so have fun. Fuck you. Get hit by a bus. Or fall into a manhole. You deserve to swim in shit, you fucking—” 

She was shaking with laughter by the time it ended, and hit the _save_ icon to keep it for future listening.

“The peanut gallery has so much to say,” she muttered to herself. “So many wrong opinions and threats. It’s almost as if people think I don’t deal with criticism all day, every day…”

She silenced her phone, hoping that would end the disruptions for an hour or two. Of course, ten minutes into an internet search for pro-human groups connected to Lex, her balcony door swung open. Her fingers curled into fists at the keyboard as she heard Kara step into the office and pause for a second.

“Bad day?”

Lena turned her head to give the blonde an unamused look. Kara stood just inside the door, a trace of a smile on her lips.

_That's not how this is going to be, Kara._

“You’d better have come here for some exceptionally important business. I have work to do, I've already been interrupted more times than I can stand, and I don’t recall telling you that you can just drop in. I meant what I said a few days ago. You’re forgiven, and that’s it. Do not use the balcony door for social calls.”

Kara's light warmth disappeared as she nodded, remaining barely inside the office. “I understand. I _am_ here as a matter of business, actually.” 

Lena doubted that was the only reason she had come. Her eyes glinted.

“Would you like to discuss it on the couch?”

Kara's gaze was steady; they stared at one another for a tense moment. Lena used it to search for the effects of their last night together. She found them hiding in the lines of the Kryptonian's face, and it gave her a jolt of satisfaction, a solid sense of control.

"No," the blonde answered. "That's not necessary."

"Then tell me what business you're here for." 

The Kryptonian began to rattle off what sounded like a report. “The DEO received information today that suggests you’ll be in grave danger at your upcoming f—”

Lena started laughing, her chair slanting as she pressed herself into it, head thrown back. The sound echoed around the room while Kara stood where she was, blinking, unsure of what was happening.

“Is someone playing a prank on me today?” Lena wondered. She made a vague gesture at the blonde’s suit, at the electronic implants embedded in it. “Do you have a hidden camera on you?”

Kara continued to look dumbfounded. “What?” 

“You’re the third person to run a threat by me in the last hour,” the CEO said, her expression quickly returning to irritated. “And as I’ve explained to several people today, I don’t have time for this. Just tell me who else is making an attempt on my life so I can prepare.”

“Um—” Kara frowned sharply, perplexed, “—wait, you’ve had _multiple_ threats? Who else is trying to kill you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lena snapped, giving the Kryptonian a sharp look to discourage further inquiry; the last thing she wanted was Kara meddling in her affairs again. “Why don’t you just tell me what you know?”

The hero's face betrayed how reluctant she was to move on, but she complied. 

“It’s a cult,” Kara explained, hands on her hips now, “or at least a cult of sorts, a faction. They're aligned with your brother. He never stopped having sympathizers, but the refugee crisis seems to have accelerated things. We’re pulling more information from the dark web. It’s obvious that their influence is growing, and you’ve made their list of priorities because of your invol—”

“Because I helped put my brother away, rebranded his company, and continue to stand against so much of what he stood for…effectively neutering many of his assets and erasing his legacy,” Lena finished. She said it impassively, but inwardly she felt a bit smug. “I hate to disappoint you or make you feel useless, Supergirl, but I’ve already been tipped off. I’ll handle it.”

Kara stared at her, still no closer than one step inside the door. 

Lena stared back with no intention of inviting her in.

“I can help you,” Kara finally said, crossing her arms.

“I said I would handle it,” Lena pushed back, and although her voice was smooth, she felt her body stiffen. “I know you might find this hard to believe, but I can take care of myself without your help. I’ve done it for years.”

She saw the blonde clench her jaw, and was caught off-guard when it triggered an image of Kara’s tense, naked musculature in her mind. She blinked it away as the Kryptonian continued to argue. 

“You’re a public and outspoken figure, you’re one of the most accessible targets they have. We already know this group has connections to some powerful players. What if they plan something you _can’t_ handle?”

“A death threat is a death threat. I’ve dealt with them before, I’m a Luthor. A rogue one. I think I can figure it out,” Lena retorted, her eyes warning Kara off. “And I think you'd agree that I have the means to protect myself.”

The blonde acknowledged this with her gaze, which shifted to the shielded drawer containing the Kryptonite knife. 

“I know you have the means,” Kara agreed quietly. “I just—”

Her face visibly clouded as she continued to stand there. Lena’s eyes tracked her, daring her to say more. She’d suspected Kara would struggle to compartmentalize and keep this professional, despite the brave face she'd put on the other night, and she reveled in the vindication of the moment.

“You just…what?” she prodded, pleased. “You’d just feel better if you could protect me?”

“Of course,” Kara whispered.

Lena smiled coldly, as she always did in the face of these pathetic revelations.

“I don't trust you to protect me.”

The Kryptonian’s eyes hardened again. Lena simply looked back at her. If Kara was still searching for some sign, some indication that a sexual incident between them or heartfelt words had significantly changed anything, she was not going to find it.

“You don’t have to trust me,” Kara said. “I want to protect you regardless. The same way I protect everyone else in the city.” 

Lena raised an eyebrow. “After all I’ve done to you, that's your response?”

The Kryptonian surprised her; she smiled a little. 

“You still think it’s about you and what you’ve done.”

Lena's irritation reared its head again. 

_Of course it's about what I’ve done. Don't pretend I haven't taken your pathetic need for forgiveness and bent it until something shattered. I’ve caused you to question yourself, to agonize, to hurt, and I’ve seen in your eyes a mirror image of what you did to me._

But she didn't say any of this. She held the blonde’s gaze and matched her smile.

 _The only thing worse than hate is indifference. And I’ve hurt you enough to finally feel some degree of indifference toward you, Kara._

“Was there something else, or is your business here concluded?” 

“It’s concluded—and I get the message,” Kara replied, her expression clear. “Business only.”

Lena formed her lips into a tight smile. “Exactly. Any meeting between us from this point on is purely professional.”

The hero nodded. She turned back towards the sky and appeared to adjust herself, her hand on the door, before shooting Lena a look. 

“Good day, Ms. Luthor.”

“And to you, Supergirl,” she murmured. The words lacked any real emotion, but when the Kryptonian blasted away from her balcony this time, she felt a deep sense of familiarity settle in her. 

She frowned at it; she had gotten used to the silence, used to late-night work uninterrupted by Supergirl, and used to a sense of peace undisturbed by requests for help, information, resources, contacts. She had been able to focus without Kara's presence in her life. 

_She doesn’t actually give a fuck about you,_ Mon-El's voice came back to her, _it was always about her and what she needed from you._

It had been a relief to _forget_ what Kara needed. Without a connection to Supergirl, she’d avoided all the high-risk entanglements inherent in an association with the hero. She’d spent a lot of that energy building her PR messaging around L Corp’s benign, helpful presence in National City—even if she privately held onto some of Lex’s R&D projects, allowed some of her assets to retain the Luthor name, and conducted her own research. She'd generally simplified. The level of danger in her life had dwindled as a result, because when she wasn't involved in Supergirl's affairs, she didn't need to be saved.

But the news she'd just received, and this particular _whoosh_ , reminded her of every time Kara had dropped in to share information and warn her. Memories that had disappeared over the years suddenly tried to return to the forefront of her mind. So did old fear. 

And so she should plan for the coming threats, but she felt unfocused and uncomfortable as she sat there, and then annoyed at herself for it. After all, it had been her own damn decision to offer the option of installing the balcony door. It was there to immortalize the rift between them, to put Kara in her place and remind her that this was Lena's domain, under her control. It was supposed to induce guilt and caution in the Kryptonian, not tainted memories in her own mind.

Narrowing her eyes, Lena determinedly pushed out of her chair, rising to use the restroom and freshen up. She needed to concentrate again and move on from all the disruption this hour had brought. There was a long list of things to do and worry about. 

At the top of that list was figuring out how someone would try to kill her.


	11. You Can Know It Differently

**_// NATIONAL CITY NEWS //_ **

**_MORE SUPPORTERS FOR LEX LUTHOR_ **

**_SHIPS JETTISON BODIES_ **

_An additional several thousand protestors have arrived at Metropolis General Hospital over the weekend as staff continue to fight the spread of the deadly infectious disease inside. This morning, leaders of pro-human groups addressed crowds near Met Gen’s outer parking structures amid heavy police presence. They identified themselves as part of a united front called the Coalition for Humanity._

_Hours ago, the Coalition unveiled a list of demands directed at both government officials and businesses. Of top priority is a presidential pardon for Lex Luthor, who is considered to be the unofficial and honorary head of the wider pro-human movement. Mr. Luthor has been unable to comment on or confirm his role within the Coalition due to his incarceration at Colorado's Administrative Maximum (ADX) Facility, the only federal supermax prison in the country. Coalition leaders further demanded that the government enlist Mr. Luthor’s help in devising a possible cure or solution for the outbreak at Met Gen, saying his multidisciplinary expertise and intellect had been “criminally squandered.”_

_Other Coalition demands included mandatory registration and profiling for aliens, increased funding for military and law enforcement, and harsher penalties for crimes committed by aliens. They encouraged business owners to hire human workers first, and to prioritize human interests when investing or allocating money. In addition, Coalition leaders stated that business owners have a right to refuse service to alien patrons. They urged politicians to pass explicit laws that would allow businesses to turn away aliens, primarily on the basis of safety concerns._

_The White House did not immediately comment on this list of demands, citing the need to attend to “other problems” first._

_Yesterday, over 20 alien ships landed on Earth as part of the first wave of UN-approved immigration. Many nations continue to scramble resources. Because the infectious disease responsible for Met Gen's outbreak could have been transmitted through orbiting ships, landed ships are being held in an isolation zone as supplies are delivered. Orbiting ship captains described rapidly deteriorating conditions and urged the acceleration of the landing process. At least three ships reported jettisoning bodies this morning._

_In Central City, sporadic bursts of violence continued over the murder of sixteen year-old Oliver Harris, who was the recent victim of a fatal attack as he walked home. New information obtained in the case led to the release of an alien suspect previously held in custody. After authorities detained a human suspect last night, reports of civil unrest and rioting increased. CCPD officials released a statement today outlining department policy and facts of the case in order to prevent the spread of misinformation from…_

  


* * *

  


Days later, Lena’s driver arrived and pronounced her black dress flawless, as he always did. She returned his compliment first with a grin, and then with a modest flourish from her diamond-inflected wrist. 

Their ride through late rush hour traffic was predictably quiet. Lena busied herself running through mental lists of attendees, conversation points, PR-approved answers to questions, and, of course, a keynote address she needed to give. The sun’s descent threw warm light across her face as she glanced out the tinted window, collecting herself before the flurry of activity to come. 

Heads turned when she stepped out of the vehicle. She entered and strode through the venue confidently unaccompanied, the same way she had for years, confirming the general public’s perception that she was married to her job. As she made her way across the open space, she politely acknowledged the various sponsors, heads of commerce, investors, business execs, and celebrities gathered inside. 

Most importantly, she nodded at the security team posted around the perimeter, keeping careful guard over the celebration.

She wasn’t due to give her address for some time, and that cushion gave her an opportunity to make her rounds—to inquire after her guests’ enjoyment, hear their business concerns, and answer questions if necessary. She summoned a glass of wine and wondered idly which of the attendees would approach her first. 

A group of string musicians had seated themselves near the stage and were beginning their set, catching her ear before anyone else could. Lena stood for a moment and listened. Her organizing committee’s decision to go with modern compositions mixed with popular covers seemed decent—it brought a balance of sophistication and accessibility to the event. 

Lengthy banners hung from the upper tiers of the venue and rippled in the evening breeze. The bold logos of L Corp, National City’s Society for Human-Alien Cooperation, the Organization for Alien Rights, and the Alien Health Foundation were emblazoned on them. L Corp’s purple complemented the gold, silver, and white of the other banners and lent the space an imperial feel. That formality was offset by the relaxed ambience of café lights twined across the central plaza.

Lena smiled, pleased with the final aesthetic, a glass of red wine pressed against her fingers.

She was swiftly approached by a group of investors. Though schmoozing had never particularly thrilled her, she recognized its necessity and put on a gracious smile. Wading into their conversation wasn't difficult. She patiently discussed the familiar set of questions and L Corp's performance as more guests arrived. Eventually she excused herself to chat with a few nearby members of National City’s Chamber of Commerce, whom she found just slightly more tolerable. 

Only after a series of such conversations did she chance across a group that held her interest. It included representatives of the organizations set to benefit from tonight's event—some of the individuals who would help handle and allocate the funds raised. To her relief, she found them eagerly discussing the alien refugee crisis, and listened attentively as they debated which issues should receive priority funding. She was soon questioned by a man she recognized from the Alien Health Foundation, Dr. Datar.

“Ms. Luthor, first of all, thank you for sponsoring this wonderful fundraiser,” he began, giving her a small smile. “I appreciate the enormous amount of work your company has done to improve the health and well-being of Earth’s alien citizens. I was surprised to learn, then, of L Corp’s lack of assistance with the situation at Metropolis General. Are you willing to discuss the matter?”

“Of course,” she returned his smile tactfully, fielding the challenge, “but first, I must thank all of you for your presence tonight and your generous contributions. As you know, this cause is very important to me. The programs your organizations implement are deserving of every penny we can help raise."

She met their eyes and let a proud smile flicker across her lips.

"Now, in regards to the situation at Met Gen, I did offer L Corp’s resources,” she explained smoothly, “and unfortunately my offer was rejected. I believe a significant portion of the aid the hospital received was conditional on my absence, though that was not directly relayed to me. It's a regrettable situation, but I suppose that people—and Metropolis, of all places—have a right to hold Luthors at a distance, even now. In the meantime, I've redirected L Corp’s R&D department to work on several projects related to disease prevention and detection. Soon we’ll begin testing equipment that should reduce the potential for these situations in the future.” 

He nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you for indulging me. Given the quality of your company, I have little doubt you'll succeed and prove your detractors wrong again. It's a shame when others cannot move on from prejudice or the past and see the good of what's right in front of them, isn't it?"

Lena's smile faltered just slightly at the question. _Sometimes,_ she silently answered him, shaking off an unpleasant feeling. Another representative jumped in, inquiring about preparations for refugees in National City. She forced herself to refocus. 

Before long, the group began conversing about the broader process of human-alien integration that would follow ship landings. She felt a deep sense of admiration for the people standing around her as she listened. In fact, the joint vision they constructed was so compelling that she did not immediately notice when people began staring at something behind her. It was only when a few members of the group looked stunned and distracted in mid-conversation that Lena turned around to look. 

Her fingers tightened on her drink.

“Supergirl,” she greeted the other woman, her acknowledgment one second too late. Kara had apparently been waiting for her to notice. “You’ll have to forgive my surprise. I wasn’t expecting a visit from you.”

A path cleared among the guests as Kara slowly approached her. She did so with poise and a tight smile.

“Ms. Luthor,” she returned, hands at ease on her hips. “I’m sorry to surprise you. I hope you don’t mind my being here.”

Lena’s eyes signaled her intense displeasure, but she plastered on yet another fake smile for the benefit of everyone around them. “Of course I don’t mind,” she said brightly, bordering on harsh, while Kara continued forward. “Whether you’re here to protect our guests or contribute to the cause, I'm glad for your presence.”

With relief, she noticed that a number of people had already turned away to resume their conversations. The Kryptonian stopped less than three feet from her, and Lena knew that to a casual onlooker, they appeared to be two powerful women having a reputable conversation. But at close range, her gaze tangled with Kara’s, and her body remembered that something less than reputable existed between them.

“I _am_ here to protect these people, and I do wholeheartedly support these organizations,” Kara replied, nodding, “but I came to offer my congratulations to you tonight. I'm aware that today is the six-year anniversary of LuthorCorp’s rebranding as L Corp. I just wanted to personally thank you for all the work you’ve done to make L Corp a positive influence in National City. Your service has been so important for a lot of people.” 

“I appreciate that, but I can’t accept your congratulations,” Lena parried deftly. Her smile had started to hurt. “My service isn't free. I think you're really the one we should be thanking. You do what you do simply because you care, and you're a phenomenal role model. You serve and protect us all. I merely run a company.”

The bitterness and painful irony in her words were deafening. They stared at each other, and she saw the blonde swallow.

“Thank you, but I must insist. We’re equally indebted to you and your employees. You create sustainable jobs, you design life-saving technology, and I know that you contribute a significant percentage your profits to good causes,” Kara pushed back, her eyes stubborn. “There’s no need to sell yourself short, Ms. Luthor.”

Amusement colored the brunette’s face as she took a sip of wine. An onlooker here and there continued to gawk. 

“Well, you know as well as I do that it doesn’t matter how much I sell myself,” she murmured. “With a last name like mine, I can never pay off enough debt.”

Kara took another step closer, her cape billowing out behind her in the wind. “I believe that will change one day. And when people are finally ready to give you the credit and trust you deserve, I hope you can accept it.” 

Lena studied her glass. _Funny. Where was the credit and trust I deserved from you years ago?_

Her gaze flickered back up to read Kara’s silence—which said something naively hopeful, as usual. They were more or less alone now, but she lowered her voice to be sure their conversation was private.

“Just come to the point, Supergirl. Why are you really here?” 

Kara discreetly glanced around before meeting Lena’s eyes again. “Because your security is tight,” she offered, her tone matter-of-fact, “but it could have been a little tighter.”

_Unbelievable. That’s what this display is about?_

“I already told you I’d handle it,” Lena growled back at her. “I don’t need or appreciate your intrusion. You do realize that now, thanks to your dramatic arrival, I’ll spend my time talking about _you_ rather than discussing the actual issues we’re here for?” 

Kara pursed her lips. “I think you’ll find that my arrival and conversation with you will also help line the coffers of these organizations, Ms. Luthor. I’ll disappear from view, but I’m not letting you turn into a sitting duck. You’re exposed out here.”

“With all due respect, Supergirl, I don't need you to tell me where I’m exposed,” Lena snapped. She took a forceful sip of her wine. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to give a speech.”

She could feel Kara’s eyes on her as she walked away. A sense of calm followed as she deposited her wine with a waiter, then headed for the stage, where an elegant glass podium had been stationed. With practiced steps, she took her place in the spotlight, summoning her composure.

“Ladies and gentlemen, humans and aliens, and everyone who falls somewhere outside or in-between,” she greeted the crowd, pausing as they turned around and gave her their attention. “I’d like to first thank you for coming to this charity event, where all proceeds benefit National City’s Society for Human-Alien Cooperation, the Organization for Alien Rights, and the Alien Health Foundation. L Corp is honored to sponsor this event as a way of celebrating its six-year anniversary.” 

A round of applause rose around the venue and echoed up.

“Six years ago I embarked on a mission to redeem my family’s name. I chose to pursue what is good and just through the progressive policies and products of L Corp, and although this process will always be an ongoing one, I am deeply proud of and thankful for what we have accomplished so far. I especially want to thank our employees, who do the nuts-and-bolts work necessary to bring our ideas to life, as well as our investors, who provide the funding that makes much of our work possible in the first place. I also want to thank the city at large for welcoming me, for allowing this business to headquarter itself here and grow with you. It is my hope that we continue to create a safe, ethical, innovative culture, and products that benefit all—human and alien alike.”

Another round of applause sounded. Lena scanned the crowd while she waited for the noise to die down and noticed that, true to her word, Kara had disappeared. 

“As you know, the alien immigration situation across Earth has become increasingly dire. It is my personal honor and privilege to raise funds on behalf of the organizations participating tonight, and to direct L Corp’s collaboration with them. Together I believe we can solve the critical sociocultural and biomedical issues all of us face, including issues raised by the current refugee crisis. 

“Of course, many of you may remember that, not so long ago, I was a bit concerned with the risks of allowing aliens to live among humans. In fact, I was quite outspoken in my skepticism about whether they belonged here, especially without being identified…” 

A mild bout of laughter bubbled up from the arrayed guests, and Lena felt herself smile.

“…but at a certain point, I realized that many people had shared very similar feelings about a Luthor making a home in National City. I was certainly in no place to turn around and judge my alien neighbors without knowing them. And I have been fortunate indeed to know several alien individuals whose intelligence, compassion, faith, and sense of justice profoundly impressed me. Aliens expose us to new ideas, knowledge, experiences, ways of thinking, and ways of seeing that we might not have considered before. In doing so, they help us reject prejudice and open our minds to what is possible. I know that to deny them a safe place among us is to deny a better, fuller, more diverse, empathetic, and forward-thinking world.”

Louder applause erupted, and this time when Lena looked out at the crowd, she caught sight of Kara. The Kryptonian was lowering herself into a squat on an overhang above the central plaza, her cape dangling in the air. They made eye contact for a moment. Even at this distance, Lena saw the question. 

_Yes,_ she silently answered. _That included you. Of course I was impressed by you._

_Before all this, before you ruined it._

She blinked and looked away. 

“The money raised today will be allocated toward an array of issues facing us now. Most immediate among them are the human health implications, as well as environmental implications, of accepting a large number of new alien refugees on Earth. Other funds will be directed toward resettlement concerns, including the construction of housing and infrastructure, the synthesis of safe, edible foods adapted to alien nutritional needs, language education, and cultural education to help aliens understand Earth customs and systems. A portion of our proceeds will also go towards mental health outreach and community organization, including efforts to dialogue with and educate human law enforcement. That we have such an incredible coalition of organizations ready and willing to assist aliens with integrating safely on Earth is truly a gift, as are the leaders who head the effort. I want to turn this over to them now so that they can say a few words about their own projects…”

Lena went on to introduce the representatives scheduled to speak and stepped down from the podium, exiting to more applause. When she glanced up again to search for Kara, she found the blonde had disappeared again. 

The remaining schedule of events continued according to plan. She listened to the rest of the speeches, then spent another hour surreptitiously surveying the venue as she conversed with guests. No signs of the Kryptonian emerged. There was no trouble or urgent reports by her security staff. She eventually concluded that either something more important had needed Supergirl’s attention, or Kara had simply respected her wishes and left.

And by the time Lena departed from the function, her energy was low, and she didn’t care where the blonde was. She felt thankful for her driver as she stepped into the back of her SUV. They quickly pulled away and entered light street traffic, heading onto the highway. As she settled into the cocoon of the muted vehicle, she looked out the window. 

The familiar scenery of the waterfront stretched out on their right, visible over a wide expansion project along the shoulder. Lights sparkled on the surface of the water, motionless and peaceful, colored with occasional neon splashes from National City’s more flamboyant skyscrapers. She wondered idly if someday she should install neon purple accents for her own building; such a bold aesthetic change would certainly generate publicity _._ It would also make L Corp's offices an iconic part of the skyline. She didn’t need much of an imagination to picture the articles that would go to press as a result, most speculating about her motivations and ego, especially as a female CEO. 

_Was it simple vanity, boredom? A show of power? Was she trying to remain relevant? Fashionable? Did she feel inadequate in the company of so many male executives? Was she competing or feuding with another CEO?_

She smirked. It wouldn’t be the best use of her company’s funds, but maybe when she had done enough, when she believed she’d earned a spot as a true innovator and benefactor in this city and the world, she might consider investing in such a— 

Suddenly the car swung to the right, its tires screeching, and Lena was thrown to the left and against the door, her shoulder striking it. She heard horns blaring. Terror shot through her as the vehicle veered sharply across slower lanes of traffic to their right. It promptly barreled through construction pylons and flimsy barricades, noisy distractions, as her driver tried to swing back to the left and maintain a path within the unfinished expansion lanes. But this sharp right-left maneuver at high speed pulled them into the start of a skid, and Lena struggled to find a grip on something as they hurtled across the shoulder—now on an arc toward the concrete barrier protecting them from the water. 

Except a sizable section of that concrete barrier was missing, and its replacement was _not_ concrete.

Her eyes widened.

If they didn’t stop, they were going to race off the highway and into the water half-sideways.

Her driver was already trying to counter the skid—but with a sickening jolt, the SUV hit construction debris on the shoulder, hard and just the right way. She felt them lift and tilt. Lights flashed around her as she reached up for something to hold onto, but it was too late, too fast. The vehicle landed evenly on its side, and she was thrust to the other side of the back seat, down into the cracking glass of the window. Her body crumpled; she registered pain. 

The SUV emitted a horrific rending noise against the asphalt as they slid, miraculously avoiding an immediate, violent rollover.

Then they hit something else, and she slid once again as the SUV's rotation slowly continued. She was quickly half-twisted across the interior roof, disoriented. 

_Is this night, among all others, my last?_

As the roof vibrated against her back, she heard external parts continuing to shear off and shatter with a discordant metallic roar.

Without warning, it withered into silence. 

Weightlessness gripped her stomach, the vehicle now airborne, slanting toward the water. She felt her body leave the roof, completely unanchored to anything, and she couldn’t scream, couldn’t comprehend this complete loss of control. Her sense of time altered. It stretched out as if trying to bridge the abyss with her, elongating. Blackness and brilliant light bent through the windows and mixed. And then her narrowing sense of focus blocked everything out.

 _If this is it,_ she wondered in the quiet, the floor looming and her body hanging in midair, _what are my regrets?_

But as swiftly as it all happened, it started to un-happen. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw fingers splay themselves against the fractured window. Flashes of gold flickered around them, and even through the dark, splintered tint of the glass, that hair was unmistakable. 

Kara hadn’t left.

The SUV righted itself and regained altitude all at once, and Lena landed ungracefully across the back seat. 

Breathing hard, eyes wide, she stared up at the roof now, stunned. 

A wave of relief slowly washed over her. She forced herself to focus on the physical reality of being alive, on what she could see and feel. As soon as she could move her arms again, she began to flex her muscles and skin against the smooth leather seats, prodding for injuries. She discovered only minor scrapes and likely sites for bruising. Her shoulder was already sore, her arms like warm rubber. Her mouth had gone dry.

The roof hadn’t warped or caved, and whether that was due to luck or her own foresight in design, she didn’t give a damn. Her SUV’s exterior had almost certainly taken a beating, but she could worry about it later. She tried to sit up.

“Holy shit,” her driver finally exhaled, breaking the silence as they glided over the water. Still strapped into his seatbelt, he slumped over and wiped the beginning of sweat from his forehead. “Are you okay, Ms. Luthor?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice raspy. 

He let out a sigh of relief and then looked at her through the rearview mirror.

“Good. I’m—I can’t believe this. Did Supergirl really just save us?”

“It appears so,” Lena answered quietly. She took her hair out of its now-destroyed arrangement and let it fall freely across her shoulders, trying very hard not to think about what had just occurred.

“Thank God,” he whispered. 

She was about to reply, extra loudly, that it wouldn’t have hurt Supergirl to come a little sooner, but then she noticed his hands. They hovered uselessly near the wheel, perhaps out of habit, and they hadn’t stopped shaking yet. 

She glanced at her own hands. They lay comfortably across her lap, pale but almost steady. There was no clamminess to them, and her heart rate and breathing were slowing. The rest of her senses had already returned to near-normal. Her body knew it was upright, living, and safe. She frowned as she registered the physical calm she felt in comparison to him.

It would be convenient to tell herself she was strong and had developed nerves of steel, but she knew that wasn't true—at least not where flying or losing control was concerned. Something else produced this deep, automatic sense of security, and with painfully abrupt clarity, she knew what it was.

_I trust her._

_I still trust her. Some...some part of me hasn’t stopped._

Her blood boiled.

“I’m in shock…” the driver was babbling, shaking his head as she tried to refocus, “…that semi, those cars pulled out of nowhere, Ms. Luthor. I apologize for the terrible scare. I’m certain we were obeying the traffic laws—”

_Of course. An assassination attempt._

Collecting herself, she glanced kindly at the front seat. “There’s no need to apologize, it’s not your fault. In fact, I should probably be thanking you for your quick reflexes.”

“But if Supergirl hadn’t been here…” he insisted, shaking his head again. 

Lena avoided directly mentioning her. “Yes, it seems I should consider adding hazard pay to your salary, doesn’t it?”

He managed a small smile.

“Ms. Luthor, at the moment I’m just happy to go home to my family.” 

As they continued drifting in silence, now inland toward the downtown area and past skyscrapers, she considered his words. 

Like him, she would also return home after this exhausting night—but to a penthouse, and to no one. 

This had never bothered her; it was her own choice to pursue her career, and her drive for excellence in it meant she made only rare and halfhearted attempts at dating.

She occasionally thought it might be _nice_ to have someone to come home to, but “nice” seemed to speak for itself. It was a boring, bland, unremarkable word. She could not sacrifice her life’s work for “nice” romance. That was a recipe for disaster and resentment. There would be an obligation to come home and play house when she could be pursuing important projects, creating a positive legacy...she never let her work remain completely at work. And it wouldn’t be fair to someone else to have only one foot in the relationship.

Never mind her trust issues.

For years she’d accepted and lived with what this meant. But now she reflected—sadly—that the work she found most meaningful and the fickle, corrupt nature of people seemed to guarantee she'd continue returning to her penthouse alone.

These thoughts were oddly brooding, and she tried to pull herself out of them, realizing with a start that the car was no longer moving forward. They’d arrived at L Corp and were being set down gently. 

Kara went to help the driver first. Glad, yet feeling burdened and uneasy, Lena opened her own car door. Her legs were steady as her sleek heels landed on the pavement. She quickly made her way to the entrance of the building, disappearing inside without a glance back. 

The elevator ride, at least, was uneventful. She let out several breaths to try to reinforce her mind and put tonight’s events into yet another of her boxes. It was not immediately successful. When her floor arrived, she walked out and to the office. After all the excitement of the night, it seemed pleasantly dark, and she stood at its entrance to take another respite. 

As she continued to breathe, she admired the way the lights of the city filtered in, casting brilliant lines across the inky surfaces.

Her eyes fell upon her desk. Despite her best effort to resettle her mind, she felt the anxious temptation to start working on something. She walked over, tossed her clutch on it, then sat. Her hands hovered over the keys of her laptop, arching with an aggravation she denied words. It was more important to consider which files to open, which reports to read, and which emails to send.

The distinctive _whoosh_ sounded not a minute later, andKara pushed into her sanctum unceremoniously, uninterested in knocking. Her words came out in a blurted rush.

“You know, far be it from me to tell a woman with multiple doctorates how to live her life, but you should _really_ consider wearing a seatbelt,” she began, her cape flowing and blonde curls bouncing as she stepped into the office. “Isn’t basic car safety covered in Earth kindergarten? How is it possible for me to x-ray your SUV and find you sprawled on the _roof_?”

Lena’s temple pulsed as she stared at her computer. 

“I went to a very exclusive private kindergarten,” she replied dryly. “Car safety didn’t quite make it into the curriculum.”

Kara came to a stop and sighed. “Guess rhetorical questions didn't, either. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lena answered, swiveling to face the blonde, “as your x-ray vision should have also discovered.”

She found the lines of Kara’s face angry, yet her eyes full of concern.

“Not all injuries are physical,” the blonde pointed out, a little softer now. They faced each other as a small pause drew out. Kara’s hands fidgeted lightly. “I'm sure that whole thing was terrifying for you...” 

“Top-notch detective work,” Lena muttered. Her eyes flicked back to her desk. “Is that all? I still have work to do.”

Kara’s brow furrowed.

“Yeah. Work is a lot safer than talking to me about this, or about anything, isn't it?”

She said it neutrally, but Lena heard the taunt underlined in the other woman's word choice. Her blood simmered again.

“Fuck off, Kara. I don't owe you a talk.”

“I never said you owed me anything,” the Kryptonian pushed back. “I'm just wondering what your anger is about. Did you not want me to come up here and make sure you were okay? Is that crossing a professional boundary?”

Lena briefly thought about threatening to bring out the knife—but as with every other time Kara had wanted to do this, to really dig in, she was too drawn to the catharsis of a smackdown she knew she could win.

“No, my anger is about how insulting it is,” the brunette said, standing abruptly, “that you even try to pretend you can understand. Of _course_ it was terrifying, Kara. Not all of us are invulnerable. The rest of us can die. So yes, I almost died, it was terrifying, and I don’t want to talk about it. Not with you.” 

Her breaths were tense, suppressed emotion palpable under the surface. She discovered she wasn’t done.

“You know, I thought this was over. This looking over my shoulder and nearly dying. I fixed that when I stopped associating with you,” she continued, her fury growing. “It’s almost like my life was better without you coming back into it.”

That hit landed.

“ _What_? Are you—” the blonde looked incredulous, “—are you _blaming_ me for this somehow?”

“That’s just _it_ , Kara—how can I blame you? How can I blame someone who saves my life?” Lena finally exploded, throwing her hands out. She kicked down the amorphous guilt and shame trying to muddle her rage. “I didn't ask for this. Nothing I’ve done could have prevented what happened tonight. I designed that SUV to withstand exceptional stress and damage, yes, but it can’t fucking _fly_!” 

She swallowed, feeling like she had taken in a mouthful of jagged glass pieces and then transformed them, spitting them out at Kara, one by one, as shards of Kryptonite. It had to be the stress, maybe one too many boxes; suddenly, she couldn’t seem to recover control and stop herself. 

“You might as well just come right out and say _I told you so_ , Kara. I should have accepted your help. I’m very aware I wouldn’t be standing here without you,” she bit out. Her eyes shone, and she stonily directed them at the window. “Thank you for coming up here to _remind_ me.”

The blonde withstood her barrage without comment. Both women took a few breaths.

“Lena,” the Kryptonian finally said, “I’m just glad you’re alive.” 

Her voice was strained but earnest, her words anchored solidly, absorbing the ripples of hostility. 

“I’m angry at what just happened to you, but all that matters to me is that you’re safe,” Kara went on. Her hands fell from her hips. “I don’t care how. And I would never ask you to...grovel to me or something.”

Lena snorted. _We're so different, you and I._ Her eyes traveled sharply back to the blonde’s.

“You talk about being glad that I'm safe,” she whispered, bitter, “but you were just another person in my life who took _away_ my safety, Kara. You lied. You let me think _I_ was the crazy one when things would just coincidentally line up. You betrayed me. Maybe you've learned something, but I’m not comfortable with entrusting my life to you again. I’m upset that I had no choice tonight.” 

Kara stood, acknowledging it. The bitterness in Lena’s expression deepened as she remembered her realization inside the SUV.

“What I know is that you led me on, betrayed me, and then abandoned me the past several years, so it doesn't matter how many times you save my life. How can I ever really trust you when I know what you're capable of?”

She was as angry at Kara as she was at herself.

“I apologized for my part in this and took responsibility. I’m trying to do better,” the blonde replied, calm. “There's no ulterior motive. I’m clarifying what I want, and I’ve shown up for you. I've done what you asked. Even when I’m constantly confused by what you actually want.” 

She stared at Lena for a moment, then turned, pacing. “Like right now. You said you never wanted to see me again and that our friendship was a lie. You act like you don't care about what happened anymore, or me, and like you want me to just leave you alone now. But then you say these things, and it’s obvious that what happened still matters to you. That you've wanted me to be here. And that you haven't forgiven me. I can't figure out which story is the real one.”

“All of them are real,” Lena said, her voice rising in contempt, “and don't you dare put that on me. You created this. Your betrayal makes it impossible for things to be simple, to just move on, to believe anything you say or do. When someone shows me who they are, I'm inclined to believe them the first time. And you showed me you were a liar from the start.”

“I gave you all the parts of myself, Lena,” Kara insisted, “I just didn’t give them to you at the same time.”

“Exactly my point,” Lena snapped, her eyes following the Kryptonian back and forth across the floor. “Don’t try to obscure the fact that you were intentionally deceiving me, keeping tabs on me and my company, keeping a whole entire part of yourself, your true self, from me every single time we were together—when you _knew_ what my family and my life was like!” 

Her eyes blazed as if she too had heat vision. 

“My whole life has been filled with selfish people who deceive me, who use me, and I _expect_ to be lied to with my family. That's who they are. But I thought you were different. I thought you could be honest with me—it was the _one thing_ I needed from you, Kara. One thing. It wasn't a secret. I told you exactly what the world has been like for me. But there you were, eager to show me the world isn't perpetually fucked. So I let you try. And instead of helping me move past the trauma, you decided to help me fucking relive it!”

Kara looked away at that. Her eyes trailed out the window, where glimmering but distorted reflections were smeared across the shaded steel of National City’s skyscrapers. The office filled with an undercurrent as they stood in the darkness.

Lena didn't feel remorse for striking where it hurt; Kara had pushed. She watched the Kryptonian inhale forcefully and struggle with her anguish. It looked satisfyingly painful.

It looked like the rich, bittersweet misery she'd tasted in Kara’s mouth.

“We’ve already talked about this,” the hero murmured to the glass, “but let me say it again. I’m sorry for the pain I caused you, and I wish I hadn't lied to you. I never wanted to be like your family. But you're right—I knew what I was doing. Because I wanted you to see me as Kara, as a regular person. I needed someone to know me like that. To like and appreciate me as that. And you did.” 

In the city light, her expression darkened with a pain Lena hadn’t seen before, not ever, even during their late-night conversations. The ache in Kara's face was deep and disfiguring. It was intense enough to threaten the this balance, this space between them, and Lena rebelled against it.

The Kryptonian swallowed with difficulty. "I don’t know if you understand what that meant to me, or what I lost when I lost you. I know I messed this up…but it wasn’t just you who suffered…”

Lena shook her head. 

“Don’t try to change the narrative and make this about you or your loss. You had other friends to go back to, people who love you, while I’ve been practically alone my—”

“I’m trying to tell you that you were the only one who truly _saw_ me,” Kara interrupted, stepping toward her. 

Despite herself, Lena felt a twinge of pain.

 _And I thought you saw me. Saw beyond_ Luthor _, beyond the notion that someone might be fundamentally undeserving of trust. I thought you were strong enough to be honest with me._

“You saw me for who I _am_ instead of what I can do, or what I represent as Supergirl, without knowing anything about my past. I had something with you that I didn’t have with anyone else, and I was trying to protect that. It wasn't malicious. How can you not see that I was right _here_ , giving you everything I could, trying to give you—” 

Kara sighed and course-corrected, backing away. 

“I gave you everything I could,” she repeated. The blue in her eyes burned with sincerity. “And I’m sorry that in order for me to have something I felt I needed, I had to deny you something you needed. But our friendship wasn’t a lie to me, and I don’t think it was to you, either, even if you've tried to cut it off and pretend it didn't happen, or didn't matter.”

“I shouldn't have to keep explaining this to you,” Lena said, her anger warring with hurt, “but you lied all those times you left work, left our brunches, saved my life. Every time you _told_ me about your life. Every time. So what part of our friendship was ever authentic? You walked around having to do gymnastics to conceal your identity from me, and the fucking irony, the icing on the cake, is that it was _completely_ unnecessary, because I—” she stopped, shook her head again, “—I, the Luthor, told you so many times, in so many ways, Kara…” 

The Kryptonian was searching her face, and so pathetically, wholeheartedly trying to reach her that Lena's voice softened against her will. 

“You don’t have to hide from me.”

Kara’s eyes grew conflicted, but didn’t leave her. A moment passed. 

“I didn’t want to hide from you,” she murmured. “I was just scared.”

Lena looked at Kara very, very directly. 

“Scared of what?” 

Faint desperation flickered across Kara's face, mingling with a mélange of misshapen shadows as she held Lena's gaze. She didn't speak.

Lena battled back her own disappointment and disgust as she watched the other woman flounder— _only another example of who you really are and why you can't be trusted._ Her gaze sank. She studied Kara’s hand, her finger still missing a ring, while the two of them stood apart in the silence, in the darkness. 

Her eyes slid back up after a moment. They met the Kryptonian’s, and deep down, even as she stubbornly challenged the other woman, she felt the presence of some singed edge of herself.

_Scared of my last name? Scared of me?_

_Wasn't I safe enough for you?_

“We were friends,” Lena pressed quietly. “Why couldn’t you trust me?”

The hero’s hands flexed into fists. Her eyes slipped away at last.

“It wasn’t about trust,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I was scared because I was falling in love with you.”

Lena’s eyes hardened.

“I was afraid I’d put you in more danger if you knew who I was,” Kara tried to explain, glancing weakly back at her, “and if we had a relationship. I was afraid I’d lose you if you didn’t feel the same. There didn’t seem to be any choice except to hide it and avoid doing anything. I thought that would protect us. But we got—I got too close, and it was too hard. That night I was going to tell you all of it, my identity _and_ feelings, but—” 

The silence in the office was oppressive, now steeped in secrets, regrets, and pain. Lena entered it carefully.

“I never let you finish,” she filled in, voice low.

The Kryptonian looked a special kind of uncomfortable now, a vulnerable and ashamed kind, and Lena knew the story was true.

Still, she felt a rush of dissonance sweep through her.

She'd started off by thinking this whole situation was some experiment, fantasy, or sexual crisis for Kara; under the influence of Red K, the Kryptonian had seemed rather straightforwardly interested in something physical with her. That interest, combined with Kara's ill-mannered actions, made for easy leverage. Her curiosity and guilt were crucial for this arrangement to work. But almost as soon as she'd started toying with the Kryptonian, she'd sensed that it was beyond physical. If the idea that Kara had feelings was not new, what was it about this confession that created dissonance?

As she gazed at the Kryptonian and felt the force of her words, she realized that, perhaps until now, she had never been fully convinced that Kara was serious. All her earlier posturing and insistence that she wanted Lena had struck the brunette as wildly foolish and desperate—coming out of Kara's fear about her own actions and loss of identity, her need for justification as she made a mess of her life, and her need to rationalize the destruction of her marriage.

_Her attraction to me was nothing more than an escape plan. A denial of responsibility._

Because that was Kara: a coward, running away when things got hard, when powers couldn't solve her problems.

But now the genuine, explicit confirmation of Kara's past feelings and their unknown backstory inserted question marks where there had been periods. This somehow upset Lena even more; it made the original betrayal even worse. 

_Is there anything else you're hiding?_ she wanted to cry out, to throw at the blonde. _Why don't you just get it all off your chest, Kara? And while you're at it, explain why, if you had feelings, and you thought they were worth a damn, you'd walk away from me and not come back to work this all out._

_How much less important could I be to you?_

She tried to shove down the pain this question caused. It was self-inflicted and unproductive; the whole situation was still clearly Kara's fault.

Clearly.

Yet when she reached for the cold, familiar comfort of her anger and indifference over everything that had happened, she found those rocks of certainty starting to slip through her fingers. She couldn't quite muster them to help her yell at Kara to get out—again, once and for all.

“Exactly how long have you felt this way?” she whispered, feeling unbalanced.

The blonde looked even more uncomfortable. When her reply came, it was hardly audible.

"I think it's always been there. I just...couldn't admit it to myself right away.”

Lena forced herself to take a breath as her dissonance intensified. 

_Jesus Christ._

She blinked several times, trying to rearrange the story in her mind and make this make sense. As she did, those tiny and undying pangs of guilt rose once more to poke through her pride; this confession was snowballing into a critical mass, bringing another reality into sharp relief.

One that highlighted to Lena that, despite her wrath and refusal to show the Kryptonian any friendliness at all, Kara _had_ sacrificed dearly to be here, _had_ saved her life, and _had_ risen to the challenge of being honest. Even about her feelings. 

_Maybe you should also consider that when I believe in doing something,_ Kara’s words taunted her, _I can be very determined to follow through on it._

What she had once fond admirable about the blonde was now absolutely infuriating. Lena stood where she was, adamantly maintaining the space between them as she was pulled further into a morass of emotion. She looked away.

“Whatever your feelings are or were, my points stand. I never asked for protection, Kara. I just asked to be able to trust you,” she finally said, eyes on the balcony. “I asked you to be a safe person for me.”

“Wasn’t keeping you alive part of that?” Kara murmured, subdued but resolute. “What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t let you get hurt because I told you and some—”

“You let everyone else know who you were, and that wasn’t your choice to make for me. I’m a grown adult, I'm not a child,” Lena interrupted. She looked back at the other woman. “I’ve survived plenty of shit. And it’s really fucking telling that you thought I couldn’t handle the truth of who you are and how you feel. You didn't think I could handle it."

Her eyes bored holes into Kara.

"Well, the joke's on you, because I don't know what would have happened if you'd just been honest from the beginning," she said, her voice low, "but it wouldn't have been this."

A change flickered across Kara’s face, and Lena knew she’d managed to hear an iota of hope in the statement.

“Don't misunderstand me,” the brunette growled, her look hardening. “Nothing will ever change what actually happened. I know what you did.”

The Kryptonian met her gaze with equal mettle now.

“So do I. We both know what I did. Neither of us can forget what's happened to us, or what we’ve done. I'm not asking you to try to un-know the past,” she replied, standing calmly. “You can't. But you can know it differently.” 

Lena’s eyes narrowed. “Years later,” she pointed out, unimpressed by the sentiment. “You want me to know it differently years later.”

_And that’s far too late to change anything._

She turned back to her desk and sat down again, intending to cut off further discussion and create space so that she could process what had just happened.

Unfortunately, the Kryptonian either did not catch or ignored the unspoken dismissal, and there was a tense pause as she shifted from foot to foot. 

“Why did you really blow up about me saving you tonight?” the blonde ventured. “I can't help feeling that it was about more than being forced to trust me.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Lena immediately deflected, her eyes already glued to the computer. 

“Okay,” Kara conceded. She frowned, trying to puzzle out what had shaken Lena so badly. “Then I just wanted to tell you that your security detail was more than capable tonight. They found an explosive planted on your car, and then they stopped an assassin on the grounds. That’s why your brother’s followers had to use a—” 

“I said I didn’t want to talk about it,” the brunette cut in, her voice low. Her fingers paused over the keys. “I’ve said more than enough for today, and I’m very familiar with the operations of my security team. You’re only supposed to be here for business I’m _not_ already aware of.”

Kara nodded, then put her hands back on her hips. “Yeah, you’ve made that pretty clear.”

“And yet this seems to keep happening,” Lena replied. She raised her chin and met the Kryptonian’s gaze again. “So if you don’t mind, you can show yourself out. It’s been a long night, and I'd like to get some work done.”

“Right.” 

She gave Lena a tight smile, then turned and headed to the balcony door, cracking it open.

“Goodnight, Ms. Luthor.”

“You as well, Supergirl.” 

As soon as Lena heard the Kryptonian blast off, she leaned back from the desk, feeling disoriented. She didn't work.

She sat there for a long time, then began the process of trying to fit the pieces of their past back together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N2: Lena references Maya Angelou: "When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time."


	12. Talking Is Harder

**_// NATIONAL CITY NEWS // BREAKING —_ **

**_MET GEN SUCCESS_ **

**_EVIDENCE EMERGES IN CC CASE_ **

_Early this morning, scientists working at Metropolis General Hospital announced that a combination treatment had been successful in slowing, perhaps stopping, the course of the infectious disease inside. So far, 87 people have died in two weeks as researchers scramble to understand the disease and develop treatment protocols. The new combination treatment was reportedly administered to staff who had volunteered for an emergency field trial._

_Reactions on the ground were mixed. Alien refugee supporters burst into applause and smiles, while protestors chanted “eighty-seven dead, never again.” Coalition for Humanity leaders reiterated their demands to the government. Others vowed that “justice is coming,” and some silently held up banners that read “Free Luthor, Save Lives.” Many wore a white armband, signifying allegiance to the Coalition. Meanwhile, a group of counter-protestors appeared to blow kisses at Coalition members and images of Lex Luthor, shouting “love conquers fear” as they walked by._

_Around the country, alien refugee relief efforts remain hampered by intensive security and isolation procedures. Many people we spoke to expressed fears that refugees are carriers of lethal diseases like the one at Met Gen._

_We are receiving word that in Central City, Dan Williamson, the human male charged with the murder of Oliver Harris, has just pleaded no contest at his hearing in court. Protestors outside the courthouse have erupted in shouts and are moving toward City Hall. It was reported earlier that police stationed around the premises were wearing riot gear and had armed themselves with tear gas. CCPD has already stated that officers will attempt to disperse the crowd if violence occurs. We are awaiting news of the sentencing and Williamson’s comments to the court, and should hear from…_

  


* * *

  


After a tedious dinner with a group of commerce officials, Lena returned to her office well past nine o'clock. 

She tried to shake off the unpleasant sense of being sodden as she closed down her umbrella and shrugged off her raincoat. It pained her to come back to work after such a day, but the demands of recent events required extra energy to tackle. She settled in at her desk, rubbed at her own shoulders for a minute, then powered on her laptop and began scrolling through emails in an effort to prioritize. 

Rain lashed at her windows briefly, the spring thunderstorm outside underway for at least an hour now. Her eyes scanned over routine subject lines: reports from various department heads, inquiries from the press, invitations from business associates, notifications of new journal articles, and legal notices requiring her personal attention.

One was a threat her assistant had forwarded through. Her reply read “reported to NCPD,” even though she could immediately tell that the email came from a dummy sender, and it was neither original nor detailed enough to offer much to a detective.

_Surrender to us or find yourself experiencing a violent fall from grace, Lena._

She moved it to the folder used for potential prosecutions, then turned on the TV, hoping for background noise. Images of protests across the country greeted her. Angry, sign-carrying mobs shouted at the camera, at the police, and at passerby. 

Lena chewed the inside of her lip as the news station played clips of unrest—humans hurling projectiles and smashing windows, setting swaths of alien neighborhoods ablaze in Gotham. Helmeted riot police launched canisters of gas into crowds. The screen split four ways, showing real-time footage of police precincts under siege, with cars alight on the streets. Two Molotov cocktails exploded outside the buildings as she watched. 

She shook her head. _Gotham has never been the safest place, but I hope it isn’t a bellwether for the rest of us._

Outside, the sky was split repeatedly by lightning; thunder cracked a few seconds later. The news cut to the studio only, where pundits began giving their commentary on the continuing political and civil unrest in light of the murder case in Central City. 

This wouldn't do for background noise. She flicked the TV off and paced near her desk, framed by the storm as she contemplated the state of things.

Gotham’s situation was already dire, Central City’s probably close behind. These weren’t her home cities, and this was all a police and legal matter, but such facts didn't stop her from feeling the urge to help. Maybe L Corp could mobilize tech, supplies, and volunteers to assist, at least with the rebuilding process, once it was set up…

...it was just that allowing any state-affiliated agents to use her technology could send the wrong message about her mission. It could also lead to fears that, like Lex, she was eager to dirty her hands in politics. Which would almost be tragic, because she’d never had a desire to become tied to or tied by the government. L Corp was a private company for a reason; she didn’t trust people, and she wanted the most control she could have over the company’s priorities and mission. 

But to allow others access to her materials was also dangerous. L Corp’s R&D inventory contained high-powered prototypes—of crowd control devices, fire suppression aids, advanced riot gear, medikits, and fireproof, bullet-resistant building materials. She possessed an array of items that rivaled the once-powerful catalog of Wayne Enterprises. Her technology might be provided with certain stipulations to help prevent it from falling into the wrong hands, but it could still be covertly reverse-engineered, stolen, used for illegal purposes…and by proxy, L Corp would be involved in the consequences. 

It was a legal and PR disaster waiting to happen. 

Still, there must be _some_ opportunity to help that didn’t simply involve throwing money at the problem. She snatched her post-it stack, pulling one so she could scribble a note to consult the legal team about it, when her office doors abruptly swung open. 

Four men dressed in black appeared. In half a second, she registered their white armbands, then the guns dangling from holsters and straps. The group hadn’t bothered to mask themselves, and each one strolled into her office wearing a look she instantly recognized. It was the condescending one her male colleagues brought into the boardroom. 

_Must be my death threat._

She rose immediately to confront them, furious but poised. Her desk drawer slipped open without a hitch. It revealed the Kryptonite knife inside, ready as it had been the night Kara came back, its vibrant, striated green glinting in the office light. 

It wasn’t the only thing in the drawer.

The men continued to approach, apparently quite confident she was reaching for a frivolous or inconsequential item— _a few Tic Tacs before I surrender?_ —as she drew her pistol instead, smoothly racking its slide to chamber a round. 

Surprise mushroomed across their faces. 

_The only variety of Tic Tac I carry is the nine millimeter variety, gentlemen._

Sighting the largest man, she fired one shot, then quickly corrected for recoil and fired a second at the man next to him. The first went down with a yell and a bullet in his chest; the other clutched at his bloody and newly-incapacitated shoulder. 

The two remaining members were recovering and drew their guns.

“Drop it!” the one nearest her shouted.

Lena refused and stepped to her left, ears ringing from the gunfire. Options filtered through her mind. The man with the damaged shoulder was already kneeling to check his downed comrade; the two men standing proceeded with caution now, locked in a standoff with her. She took another step. Air moved evenly through her nose as she held her aim steady, trained on the man who seemed to be the leader.

“Stop moving!” he barked. “We _will_ shoot to kill!”

The gun was warm under her hands as she watched them, shifting slightly left again, gambling, keeping herself mobile, nonverbally asserting control. Her eyes glinted.

“If you really wanted to kill me, you wouldn’t have come in with your weapons holstered. You’d have done it.”

He gritted his teeth. “Lex would prefer we take you alive. But we don’t have to.”

 _And I’d prefer death over being held captive or used again by my brother._

She needed a distraction, needed them to put their guns down. Her body went still for a moment.

“I can be reasonable if necessary. Why don't you tell me what you want?” she offered, stalling. In her peripheral vision, she could see the intruder she'd shot in the shoulder struggle to apply pressure to his teammate’s chest. A spout of blood had already spattered across her stark white tile.

“I want you to put your gun down,” the leader repeated. He took another step forward. “I'm not asking again, we’ll just kill you. Don’t be stupid.”

She eyed him shrewdly for a second, testing, selecting her best option. 

“Well, I'm anything but stupid,” she murmured at last. A hint of defeat appeared on her face. “And I'm not interested in dying, so let’s be civilized about this, shall we? I’m going to set my gun on the floor and slide it to you.” 

Letting her left hand fall, she gradually held the gun out, just to her right, making a show of rotating the muzzle away from them. Her eyes continued to meet the leader’s—steady, unflappable. 

The tension in the air thickened as she went into a crouch. 

She inhaled, then released the weapon from her hand. It clattered lightly against the floor. The postures of her two assailants started to relax, to drop. 

“Here you go,” she announced.

From her crouch, she twisted to the side and sent the gun over with her left hand, maximizing the alignment of her body. The men fully lowered their guns as hers came skittering toward them. She seized her chance.

Using all her strength, she launched herself away from them with a clumsy half-jump up the step, into the door, and onto the balcony. The door bounced wildly away on impact with her shoulder. Her exposed skin was pelted by the chilly rain in an instant, and she scrambled forward while shots started to ring out and glass cracked, her heels sliding on the slick surface of the balcony. She willed herself not to trip and anchored her focus to the edge of the railing. Reaching out desperately for it, she steeled herself as she leapt forward, letting her momentum push her over.

The magnitude of what she’d just done sank in as soon as she started plummeting through the air; a rumble of thunder was all that met her body. Eyes wide, she froze, the sudden shock of the fall wresting the breath from her lungs. She could not call out the name on her mind, the name she’d readied on her lips. 

One second passed. 

She lost her heels. Whole floors rushed up at her, bright against the night sky. Air hurtled loudly past her ears as her body corkscrewed, naturally flipping into a spread-eagled position, and torrents of rain cut through her clothes and into her skin.

_Two seconds._

Face down, she could see individual shapes on the street below, umbrellas open. People would witness what happened if she hit the pavement. Her senses finally snapped to full attention. 

“K-Ka…” 

She tried to force her name out into the storm, but she was still struggling to breathe.

_Three seconds._

Despair flooded her with the approaching ground. 

_What will the headlines say? Homicide or suicide?_

But those thoughts were useless, and her focus cut through them. 

“ _Kara_ …”

It was breathless; she was only barely able to call the other woman's name.

_Four._

At last she was jolted from behind. 

A pair of arms hastily shot around her hips and breasts, pulling her into a tight roll. Before she could even react, she was facing upward, toward the sky. The force of rapid deceleration set in. She was flattened, violently, into the body at her back. She felt only the cape snapping at her thighs and strands of hair thrashing at her cheeks. Then everything stopped. 

Lena looked up at the stillness of the night sky and surrounding skyscrapers with stinging eyes, her limbs now hanging limply, her body at rest in midair. Her chest heaved against the arms wrapped around her. As she stared at the lurid, stationary office lights above, she was beset by a delayed wave of shock and nausea. She felt dizzy, dazed.

_I’m alive._

She blinked a few times. 

_I will never get used to almost dying._

After another moment, Kara’s tense grip on her relaxed. Lena realized then that her blouse was completely drenched, and that a warm hand was spread firmly across her breast. She was too stunned to care. All that mattered was that she hadn’t been shot, splattered across the street, or lost consciousness at some point during the last few minutes. Her heart continued hammering away at her chest as if to prove she was indeed alive.

She could tell Kara was just as shaken when she felt the tight breaths in her ear. 

“I’m sorry,” the Kryptonian’s voice cracked softly, “we had an emergency, I wanted to be here sooner to stop all this, I just—I…”

Lena couldn’t respond yet. She simply laid atop Kara in the rain, lightly shivering. The sounds of traffic echoed somewhere around them.

She felt icy rain slip from her fingertips. 

“...are you hurt?”

Lena managed to shake her head.

“Okay,” Kara said quietly, “then we’re going to fly back up. I promise I’ve got you, I’m just going to change position. Hold still.”

Even if she could have moved, Lena didn’t dare; she didn’t know how far from the ground they were. The Kryptonian quickly maneuvered into a bridal carry, and memories began to bubble up in Lena’s mind, imbuing the present with a familiarity and safety it did not have. Still, she had little choice but to curl into the other woman. She tried to grab the base of Kara's cape with one hand, her weak fingers trembling on the blonde's collarbone. It was difficult to secure them in the textured material.

 _I’m safe,_ she studied her own grip to assure herself of its stability, _I’m alive. I’m going to be okay. I just need to hold on._

She looked up from the fist she'd made, determined to relax...but at such close range, such intimate quarts, the arc of her eyes naturally intersected with Kara’s face.

Worse, Kara caught her. 

She lingered without thinking, for one second noticing the blonde ringlets snarled all the way down to the Kryptonian's shoulders, framing the intensity of her gaze, accented by the urban light dancing around them. Her breath dissolved into the air. 

A moment passed. 

As she clung to Kara, she became very aware of their soaked clothes, her own windswept hair, the water trickling over her skin. She knew she must be saying something to Kara. And something was being said back.

 _I think it’s always been there_ , she read the other woman's eyes, _I just...couldn't admit it to myself right away_. 

It kindled the question that had confounded Lena from the moment the words had been said.

If her goal was to provoke an outright confession from Kara as a way to test, yet again, how serious she was about restoring trust and honesty, and if that confession was painful for Kara...then why didn't Lena feel very much satisfaction in it?

How could it bother her, even a little, to know for certain that Kara felt this deeply, and had felt this way from the beginning?

That wasn't part of the script between them.

Until now she had been almost relentlessly cold. Her demands were supposed to be high enough that Kara would choose not to meet them. And if she did meet them, if she really attempted to regain Lena's trust, she was supposed to suffer, feel hurt, guilty, uncertain and afraid of herself in the process. No matter what decision she made, she would lose; that was how Lena had set this up. The script was to be cruel, indifferent, to keep the other woman confined to window shopping—looking, but never being allowed to truly touch—all to force Kara to give up on her. Just as Kara had forced Lena to.

Such intentional distancing should drive anyone, any sane person, away. Even someone as benevolent as Supergirl. But as she stared at the Kryptonian in this moment, somehow _she_ was the one who wanted to pull away.

And all she felt was her own damned guilt, uncertainty, and fear.

She saw its inverse in Kara’s gaze: a fearlessness that wouldn't let her go, that held her close.

It made no sense at all. 

_Once again, she's here._

At the edge of her vision, she saw the blonde's throat move, then her eyes drop, flickering to Lena’s whitening knuckles.

“You can put your arms around my neck," Kara swallowed, "if you want to hold on to something else…” 

The low suggestion jarred Lena to her senses. She freed her gaze from its trap, instantly annoyed at Kara's proposal of further contact between them. Her fingers tightened pointedly on the cape. 

That spoke for itself. Kara drove them up into the rain without another word.

As she experienced the familiar ripples of discomfort produced by flying, Lena closed her eyes, trying to distract herself with the storm, which had been cold and painful against her skin just a minute ago. Her effort quickly went to waste. Though the chill of the rain might have felt harsh and sharp, it was soothing now—because, however her mind wanted to deny it, her body couldn't help becoming overheated in Kara’s hands. 

Tonight those hands touched her with confidence, lacked any trace of their usual anguish or torture. They were solid. In fact, they felt very nearly like they had...before.

 _That wasn’t real_ , she insisted. _That past was a lie._

Kara had already kissed her, touched her, shown her what she was. She knew Kara’s hands: they were needy, fraught with hangups. Held-back. Guilty. _That_ was real. Her touches were those of a traitor, of someone who’d hurt her, someone who did _not_ matter anymore. She could not forget these things now, regardless of Kara’s justifications, feelings, or saving her life.

_I’ve been burned too many times to fall for this again._

They touched down on the balcony, and Lena scooted out of the blonde’s space as fast as possible. She found her footing on the slick, glassy surface of the balcony, her bare feet freezing atop it. The storm continued to hound them. As she stepped gingerly toward the door, she glanced into the low lighting of the office. 

Her four assailants were nowhere to be found. She scanned for signs of their departure or incapacitation, but only a few spatters of blood remained.

“I took care of things as much as I could,” Kara said. Rivulets of night rain dripped from her chin. “I thought you might want to continue working. But if you want to leave, I can get you to your penthouse for a chang—” 

“No,” Lena said, finally finding her voice. _Certainly not there._ “This is fine.”

Lightning flashed across the blonde’s features as she nodded. 

Lena stared at her amid the hail of water on the balcony, both women framed by high-contrast swatches of downtown light. She briefly considered forbidding Kara from entering the office; surely they were about to argue again.

_No. Let her follow me._

_She has yet to outmaneuver me in this game; I can still handle her._

The brunette turned and pushed through the door, carefully proceeding into the dry, warm interior of the office. As she stood by her desk, she noted the trail of white bursts along the windows—clusters of very densely cracked glass. Each impact point spawned a vicious web of lines, but the panes had absorbed the energy of the bullets and stopped them from penetrating all the way through. 

She smiled.

"Was this your work?" she heard Kara ask, her voice layered over the now-muted sounds of rain.

“Yes. Modified bullet-resistant glass,” Lena murmured. _Something I didn't need you for._ “My team developed it. We replaced the old windows years ago, and the door was fitted with improvements. Kryptonese wasn’t the only special touch.”

“It's impressive.”

Lena glanced back to find the other woman just inside her doorway, her eyes irritatingly genuine.

“Not that impressive,” she countered, quick to brush Kara off, “it just contains a higher number of layers than typical bullet-resistant glasses. We did a lot of materials science and engineering work with new composites to make it lighter and thinner, so it's not even glass, not exactly. It allows unrivaled levels of light transmission and energy absorption.” 

“Seems pretty near perfect,” Kara commented. "It was able to stop those bullets and save your life.”

Lena eyed her as thunder rumbled in the distance.

“It wasn't able to stop something faster than a bullet,” she murmured, turning around. “When I develop a glass that does, I’ll consider it perfect.”

Kara’s mouth twitched. Lena started to make her way further into the office.

“Is that an invitation to keep breaking your windows, Ms. Luthor?”

The question was soft but brazen, and Lena hesitated.

Then she elected to ignore it in favor of navigating her floor.

She needed to—because although Kara had cleared much of the debris, the close grouping of shots in the door and windows had produced very fine chips, which had splintered off. It looked like the tile nearby was littered with diamonds. 

With her fingers, she combed strands of damp hair out of her eyes, then took the risk of catching her bare feet on errant glass, unwilling to allow Kara to help or carry her again. She picked her way across the room until she was standing near the couch.

From there she took a breath, trying to absorb the reality that almost nothing had physically changed in the last five minutes. Her office lights were on and functioning, as before. Her computer wasn’t touched or moved. The pistol she had relinquished lay atop the desk, presumably placed there by the Kryptonian, and her shelves sat unharmed.

“Can I get you something?” Kara asked, now standing by the desk. A small puddle began to form under her cape as droplets ran from it. “I could grab some hot food, a pair of shoes, maybe a change of clothes…” 

Lena shot her an amused look. “I'm sure you’d like that.” 

She said it very much under her breath, but a satisfying flash of confusion appeared on the blonde’s face.

“What?”

Lena crossed her arms. She felt the frigid wetness of her blouse.

“We both know you can hear me, Kara.”

“And we both know I’m asking what you mean by that,” Kara quietly dug back. 

There was a strained pause as the Kryptonian walked a few steps deeper into the office.

“I mean exactly what I said. You’d like to get me a change of clothes,” Lena repeated, studying her. “I’m _implying_ that you’d like to get me out of the clothes I’m wearing.”

Kara adamantly held her eyes, and Lena felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as they stared at one another across the room, the playing field entirely different than a few minutes ago. 

The blonde continued to move closer, her steps measured. 

“I’m trying to help. I don’t know why you’re making it about this.”

“ _You_ made it about this,” Lena replied, eyebrows rising. “They’re _your_ feelings. You admitted to them.”

“Because you asked what I was afraid of. It’s pretty unfair to use the honesty you demanded from me to turn around and question my motives or character,” Kara argued.

She gave Lena a frank look, her hands on her hips; they both knew she was right. 

“I'm trying to help,” she said again.

“Well, you’ve done quite enough,” Lena retorted. “I'd love it if you were helpful by giving me space.”

Now a faint twinkle entered the Kryptonian's eye.

“You don’t want to talk about me saving your life again."

Lena’s eyes flashed.

“Don't try to goad me into this,” she growled. “Why is it so hard for you to respect what I want?”

Kara closed the remaining distance between them. “I’ve tried to respect and adhere to what you want ever since I agreed to your arrangement,” she replied, narrowing her eyes. “I don't think trying to have this conversation—Rao, _any_ substantial conversation with you—is about me not respecting you. That's just a cover, a way to blame me and avoid having it, and I'm not taking the bait. So why is it so hard when I save you?” 

Lena glared at her.

“I already told you.”

Undeterred, Kara searched her face. 

“I still know you,” she pushed. “There's more. But I think you’re afraid of engaging in the very honesty you keep saying you want. And I think you hate when _I_ tell the truth, too.” 

Lena snorted derisively. “Please. This wild theory is embarrassing, Kara.”

The blonde shook her head. “It's not wild. When I'm honest, you can’t pretend I’m the shitty person you have in your mind. And my honesty and vulnerability probably make you uncomfortable,” Kara ventured, “because they make you very aware of how afraid you are to get to that level.”

The silence became sharp, and Lena's eyes became harder.

“How arrogant of you to presume you know what this is about,” she snapped. She stood poised like a hawk, her voice low and dangerous. “If you want to get _deep_ with me, Kara, let’s discuss your investment in having these discussions, even after I _told_ you I was finished with you.”

Kara stiffened. Lena continued her offensive.

“Do you think you can win me over with more _chats_? Are you trying to be my savior, to fix what’s _happened_ to me?” she asked, her face stone-still. “Or is it just about you, and assuaging your guilt about what you’ve done? Do you come here and do these things to prove to yourself that you’re really, actually a good person? Someone who cares?”

Lena’s jaw clenched as she watched the words sink into the Kryptonian. 

“I know you too, Kara. I know that, deep down, you’re afraid that you ruined your life for this, for me, and I _still_ hate you.”

Kara swallowed. Rain drummed on the balcony outside, both women still miserably disheveled in the office. Lena’s dank, suffocating clothes did nothing to smother the anger she felt as she waited for an answer, or for Kara to leave.

“I didn’t ruin anything,” the Kryptonian contended quietly. “My life doesn’t revolve around you. I just wish you were in it. And deep down, what I’m afraid of is that you’ll never be.” 

_Good._

Yet a part of herself no longer felt quite so good about it.

“I know it's years late, but I choose to be here now, and it’s not about being your savior or a good person. It’s because I still care about you.”

Which was the most infuriating thing of all.

_Why won’t you just take your beating and go away, Kara?_

“Well, caring about me is none of your business anymore,” Lena tried to assert, her eyes like the cracked glass in the windows, “and I find it ridiculous that you, of all people, are pestering me about “avoiding” things and being afraid of honesty. _You’re_ the one who spent years married to a man.”

Kara’s face changed, and Lena immediately knew she’d misstepped—it wasn’t what she meant to say, and she shouldn’t have said it like that.

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Kara asked softly. Her chest rose and fell in the few feet between them, her eyebrows knitted in confusion. “I like men. And I thought you said you don’t care who I have sex with anyway.” 

The unspoken question shone in her eyes. 

_Do you?_

_Did you?_

Lena glanced away.

“I _don’t_ care, Kara,” she muttered, irritated, “I’m just saying you’re a hypocrite if you’re accusing me of being afraid of honesty.”

Kara gave her a long look, then shrugged. 

“Well, you’re right. I was a hypocrite, I was afraid of how I felt about a lot of things. You helped point that fear out.”

_Seriously?_

“I think I did a little more than that,” Lena snorted, offended.

“You pushed me to deal with it.”

Lena tilted her head slowly.

“If _that’s_ how you want to phrase me fucking you on the couch,” she raised her eyebrows at the blonde, “on your knees, then yes. I certainly pushed you to deal with _something_ on that couch.”

Instead of being cowed, Kara stepped even closer, definitely into her personal space. Her eyes were clear, open, and her breath warm.

“I’m not ashamed of that,” she whispered.

Again, Lena couldn’t move, couldn’t look away from the fearlessness in the other woman's eyes.

“Yes, I was on your couch, on my knees,” Kara continued. “Try to put me in my place if you want, but I'm grateful. I gained more clarity, more freedom, and more courage when I came here. You helped me reclaim what I want.”

Lena blinked, trying to figure out where she had lost control of what was happening.

“What are you doing?” she whispered tightly.

“Being honest,” Kara replied, eyes steady. “I want you to be too.”

Lillian flickered behind the blonde, the lingering specter of Lena's inheritance: manipulation, callousness, ulterior motives and layers. Even if she despised it, the world had repeatedly shown her just how adaptive a Luthor approach was. Trusting others was dangerous.

“You know it isn’t that simple,” Lena whispered. 

She resented the fragility she could feel creeping into her eyes. 

“I know,” Kara stepped back, her suit still glimmering with rain. “I didn't make it easy, and your family didn't make it easy. Maybe you feel like you have to be heartless and closed off to protect yourself...but I know that’s not who you really want to be.” 

Lena looked at the Kryptonian, hating that Kara had ever known who she really wanted to be, had ever seen how damaged she was.

“I refuse to be defined by my family,” she said, very careful, “or become them, but I’m not going to be a gullible fool who gets stabbed in the back all over again. I can’t just trust you, Kara.”

Kara looked as if she wanted to step forward once more, but held herself back.

“I’m not asking you to be a Luthor, or a fool, or to be friends,” she murmured. “I’m just wondering what’s happening when I save you.” 

Lena searched the Kryptonian’s eyes and, despite every suspicion and ounce of anger she had cultivated, she still recognized that genuine, steadfast caring in Kara that had caught her attention years ago. Now, of course, an equally genuine and deep pain accompanied it.

She found herself wondering if the blonde had, perhaps, finally earned something from her, some small measure of trust. Some indication that Lena was _not_ avoiding honesty, that Kara was wrong.

_What would happen if I let myself do this again?_

She felt her skin prickle at her returning uncertainty. This night had seen a death threat, a break-in, standoff at gunpoint, and balcony dive, and the whole world was more or less going to hell around them. Kara was still here. Still responding to her call, still saving her life. No matter what was thrown at her.

Lena didn’t let go of the Kryptonian’s eyes. 

“It upsets me,” she said very softly, “because...being saved makes me feel like I—” 

The words stuck in her throat, lodged there like serrated knives, and she knew they would hurt coming out; they might kill her coming out. Her eyes froze on Kara’s as her stomach shrank in fear. For a moment she couldn’t think, could do nothing except feel her own need to hide. 

_I can’t do this. What if I'm wrong? What if I'm making the same mistake?_

_She’s still here,_ some past version of herself fought back. _And what if she's meant every word?_

Lena braced herself, pulling the knives all at once. Hard. 

“—it makes me feel like I need you, Kara.” 

Her heartbeat filled the silence that followed, and she immediately felt ill, in danger, as if she’d gone off the balcony again. She couldn’t hold Kara’s gaze.

“And I hate that feeling,” she whispered, trying to defend herself. Tension coiled in her, tighter and tighter, when the blonde remained quiet. “It means betrayal. The people I’ve needed have always turned on me. And when you did, I realized something.”

Her eyes came back up to find a strange glint in Kara’s.

“I _can’t_ need anyone. I can’t get to know people, and I can’t let them get to know me, because I can’t go through that ever again,” she swallowed, her pain quickly turning feral. “It’s not worth going through, so I don’t. But when you save me, and you’re close to me again, you know me at my most vulnerable, my most helpless, you know me intimately, and I have no control over it, but I need it. I need it if I want to live. I need what I can’t need. I need what hurts me, and I hate it, and that moment is—it’s—it’s—”

_Terrifying._

“I’m afraid of this,” she croaked. "I'm so afraid."

_I am the very coward I accused you of being._

She looked at Kara as if the blonde could help her understand this appalling inversion of reality, her mind whirling like an unhinged carousel ride on intermittent power.

 _I know,_ Kara’s cobalt eyes steadied her, inches away. _I know this is hard for you._

Lena waited for the misguided and woefully inadequate reassurance that she was okay, some trite advice or praise for her bravery in sharing, but none came. Kara did not move to comfort her. Kara did not even touch her.

She listened, and Lena realized Kara’s long silences, and that glint in her eye, were not neutral, not distant, not pitying. They were one of the deepest expressions of respect she had been offered in a long time. 

The tight snarl in her body vanished. 

As if she were stepping back from a photograph, one held too close for too long, she watched the vague, unfocused colors around Kara coalesce, forming a sharper image, forming something she recognized again—something she’d forgotten.

Warmth flickered down her spine, and it was followed by a blaze of discomfort and fear far more intense than what had come before. 

She frowned at the blonde, suddenly overwhelmed. 

“I’m sorry, I…I shouldn’t have said an—”

“Lena,” Kara quietly interrupted, speaking at last, “please don’t apologize to me for being vulnerable.”

Lena struggled to breathe, to push back against those words. They intensified the warmth in her body.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” she whispered again, utterly confused. 

“Why not?” Kara asked. Her voice was still quiet and calm. “What’s so bad about this?” 

_Everything._

Her face paled as the compassion in Kara’s eyes absorbed her toxic anger, fear, and grief, and then, in some horrific cascading effect, it dissolved each compartment, each barrier she had constructed to prevent this exact moment from happening—every measure she had put in place to make sure these feelings, this reaction, would never, ever surface in Kara’s presence again. 

Emotional ashes reheated and resurrected themselves, incarnating as some deformed and mangled monster, one as unmistakable and indestructible as the woman standing in front of her. She felt a violent tremble go through her body.

This wasn’t just _bad_ , it was...

“I can’t need you again,” she answered roughly. “I can’t talk to you like this, Kara. Please go.” 

She tried to turn away before it got further out of hand.

“I know you’re scared,” Kara touched the brunette lightly with her fingertips, “and I know talking is harder than having sex on the couch. Just breathe. You don't have to keep running.”

Lena stared at her, trying to be angry, her unwanted feelings joined by the sharp, warm arousal of Kara’s hand on her, the word _sex_ in the air. She felt like she was choking.

“Easy for you to say,” she hissed. The skin where Kara touched her only grew warmer as she lashed out. “This is emotional, this is sharing. How can I just _breathe_ with you when I'm afraid you’re going to betray me again?”

Kara didn’t move.

“I don’t think betrayal is what you’re afraid of,” she said softly.

Lena stared at her, stunned by the veiled accusation, breathless in the face of Kara’s audacity. 

How was it possible to want to flee from and lean into someone at the same time? This incongruity of terror, longing, and desire pulled her apart. Kara’s proximity and her own instincts drove her to desperation, to distraction. She fought to maintain her power and control over Kara, pulling the only card she could think to play.

Her eyes wandered over the Kryptonian’s lips, the overture unmistakable, her voice low. 

“Then what am I afraid of, Kara?” 

Kara hesitated, and the rise and fall of their chests became noticeable in the stillness. Both stood in it, dampened with rain, hair matted and tangled, a consummate mess—hung up at the office late into the night, as they had been so many nights before. 

No one else was here. No one else would know. 

Lightning flashed again. Lena saw the flicker of it in Kara’s eyes and waited for her to break, to come close again and give in.

_You want to, Kara. It'll be easy. Just take me._

The Kryptonian met her gaze evenly.

“It’s not my fear to face. You’re the one who has to answer that question.”

Caught up, Lena fumbled for a response, staring helplessly into the blonde's eyes.

“I’m sure you have work to do, so I’ll let you go back to it,” Kara made the preemptive offer, filling the silence. Her gaze lingered, but it was calm, impenetrable, and Lena felt strangely offended. “I have my own work to finish, and I’ve probably overstayed my welcome. I know you’re busy.”

Kara started to retreat from her personal space and head for the balcony, and Lena felt an iota of clarity and sense return. She remained where the Kryptonian left her, blinking at the wall for a moment, trying to break what felt like a trance. When she looked over again, Kara was almost outside. 

She half-expected the blonde to throw her a parting glance or some other form of goodbye, but Kara pushed through the glass door and did not stop, letting the tranquil sound of rain whoosh into the office for a moment. Lena listened to it as the Kryptonian leapt upward. 

That exit left her cold and alone, without the food, shoes, and change of clothes she had been offered, and certainly without peace.

She wrapped her arms around herself and let a series of suppressed shivers finally erupt across her body. 


	13. The One Who Drove A Second Arrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This news is not great, but things have blown up with COVID-19, and I may need to go on a hiatus as some stuff gets figured out. I'm also considering adding a little extra to this story. I hope you all can hang tight. (Maybe you have to if you're quarantined or practicing social distancing, so enjoy some reading!) Stay safe and take care!

The next morning—a provisional day off before the first refugee landings began near National City—Kara joined Alex and Maggie at their apartment. The couple had scheduled a date near the waterfront, and they chatted and held hands next to Kara as all three of them headed out. 

Bright sun washed over the glass and steel of the cityscape, leaving no trace of last night’s thunderstorms. A few songbirds chirped in the trees as they passed by. The air was clear in Kara’s lungs, and she wished that feeling of clarity would go to her head; she needed it for tomorrow. Her early morning had been spent in distraction, on thoughts about the previous night. Even now Lena lingered in her mind. 

Several seconds passed before she realized the conversation between Alex and Maggie had stopped. When she glanced up from the ground, she found Alex giving her a look, Maggie just beyond her. 

“I don’t think she heard you,” her sister said, a knowing look in her eyes.

Kara winced apologetically at the detective.

“I said I heard Supergirl saved Lena Luthor again,” Maggie repeated, giving Kara a sly smile. “Any comment on that?”

The Kryptonian checked for eavesdroppers and then leaned closer to them. “Well, I can’t confirm…”

Alex and Maggie both rolled their eyes.

“There were eyewitnesses, Kara,” Maggie laughed, “it’s not a matter of confirmation.”

“Eyewitnesses who say that it was a…uniquely spectacular save,” Alex added, raising an eyebrow.

Kara winced again. “It wasn’t like that on purpose, I just thought I wasn’t going to make it in time.”

“Is that why we’ve seen clear pictures, from multiple angles, of you holding her in midair? Horizontally? Her laying on top of you?” Maggie prodded. Her smile morphed into a smirk. “You had to take a minute with her, make sure she was okay?”

Kara cursed herself for not even thinking to check social media, TV, or CatCo’s internal boards. The save itself hadn’t really been on her mind; she’d been caught up in what happened after. 

"Rao, yes, I was worried...I didn't know people captured it."

“What’s going on with you two, by the way?” Alex cut in, her tone noticeably distant. “Has anything changed?”

Kara tensed. “Yes and no. We haven’t…had anything physical since that night. I just told her I had feelings—back when we were friends.”

She saw the hesitation in her sister’s face; Alex didn’t think that was a great idea.

Maggie filled the gap. “You finally had that discussion outright?”

“After the first time I saved her in the car, yeah. More of an argument than a discussion. We always argue,” Kara sighed, shaking her head. “But when I told her, she seemed…I don’t know. She seemed to at least think about it for a second.”

She walked down a stairway at her sister's side, and was quickly swallowed by the darkness of the subway station. Her mind turned over that conversation and the brunette's reaction as she descended.

“Lena said—" she continued, a little tentative, "—she said things might have been different if I’d told her earlier.” 

Alex faltered slightly as they reached the platform landing. “She said that?”

“Yeah," Kara nodded, scrutinizing her sister for some sign that this mattered the way she thought it might—that she wasn't just caught up in wishful thinking about Lena.

“That seems…like a big thing for her to say,” the agent mused slowly. “Was it productive, or was she just being vindictive and emotionally manipulative again?”

“She was still really angry,” Kara frowned, “and pretty clearly still hurt about the past. But…like I said, there was some kind of pause. I'm not sure how to interpret it.”

Alex was quiet as the rumble of an incoming train began to build.

Kara realized she’d forgotten to check where she was going—her destination was familiar, but the subway route to it was not. She stepped up to a nearby map for a second, trying to dispel the image of Lena's face, the remnants of the energy between them. After a quick glance, she returned to Alex and Maggie. The subway cars had slowed to a stop, their doors rolling open.

It was not long before the trio found a more secluded car.

“Okay, so you told her there were feelings in the past,” Maggie started again as they settled in. “And it seemed to actually hit her this time?"

"Maybe," Kara shrugged. "I mean, I sort of thought it was obvious that there was something, that there had always been something, but it was so...unspoken, and not well-defined, and I think maybe actually confronting it and showing her a little of how it really happened for me, how much deeper it was—I think it was helpful. Like a step towards resolving what happened. I think she could...see me a little better, or something."

She trailed off, thinking.

"So then what about last night? What was all that about in midair?" Maggie probed, leaning forward across from the Kryptonian. "Some corners of social media are having a field day.”

Nervousness immediately gripped Kara.

“Really? What’s the commentary?” she asked.

The subway jerked forward, gaining volume and speed. Alex and Maggie exchanged glances as Kara fidgeted in her seat. 

“There’s definitely some speculation,” Alex shared, crossing one leg over the other. “Some romantic speculation, specifically, but not a whole lot, if that's what you're worried about. No one with influence was taking that idea seriously.”

“I’m not sure you want to call a legion of hopeful lesbians ‘no one with influence,’ Alex,” Maggie said, trying to cover up a laugh. “They floated some…interesting possibilities for what you two were doing up there.”

Kara felt herself go red. 

“Nothing was happening.”

Maggie gave an exaggerated, slow nod. “Hmm. Okay.”

“I swear, nothing,” Kara insisted. “It's not like that. Someone called for me and I saved their life. Like every other day.”

“You saved a _Luthor’s_ life,” Alex pointed out. Her eyes turned suspicious. “A Luthor called for you. A Luthor who still holds a dangerous grudge against you. And knows you've been holding a torch for her.” 

Kara frowned. “Meaning what, Alex?”

The subway car rocked back and forth, its chugging monotonous. Alex eyed her.

“I’m just making sure we remember certain details. Lena isn’t like anyone else. You have history, and she’s…well, she’s proven what she’s capable of. What if she somehow uses this against you?”

“I know you want to protect me,” Kara murmured, “but demonizing Lena because of her family isn’t helping. And I know what she’s done, but I also know we're not having the same kind of interactions we were before. People can change if they work at it.”

"Is she working at it? Do you have any concrete proof?" Alex replied, her eyes hard yet tender. "Has she even apologized?"

Kara swallowed down a flare of irritation at her sister.

"People don't change overnight, Alex. No one overcomes trauma overnight," she said. "And they don't overcome it by themselves, in a vacuum."

Maggie waved a hand between them like a white flag.

“Okay, there's still a difference of opinion on how much of a chance Lena deserves," she quickly summarized, glancing at both women. "What happened _after_ you saved her, Kara?”

The blonde took a breath and refocused.

“We talked in the office, like usual,” she began, looking down at her hands now as they jolted with the train. “I decided to push at her—kind of like she did with me.”

“And?”

She sighed, then looked up at the two of them again. “She was angry, of course. But like I said, I think things have changed a little, because it seemed like when she realized I wouldn’t back down, and I was seeing through her crap, she actually started to talk to me. I don’t think she was fully ready for it, though, because—” 

Alex caught the hesitation in her voice, the conflict in her eyes. Her own narrowed. 

“Because what? What happened?”

“Nothing, like I told you,” Kara murmured, frowning once more, “except…it _felt_ like something happened, and I think—”

They stared intently at her as she thought back, trying to reconstruct the moment in her mind, the odd way Lena's face had changed.

“I think she _wanted_ something to happen.”

Alex and Maggie glanced at each other. The train decelerated as it approached the next stop, brakes squealing, and when the car had come to a halt and quieted, Alex spoke again. 

“What makes you think she wanted something to happen?”

Kara shifted uncomfortably. 

“It was her reaction,” she explained, the train starting to bump along again. “She…very obviously stared at my lips. And I’m sure I wasn’t seeing things. It was like she was angry, then she was afraid, and then she was…”

“Horny?” Maggie offered.

Kara snorted, cracking a brief smile. 

“No—well, maybe, but something else was happening. I think she was…confused.”

There was a small silence. “What did you do?” Alex asked. 

Kara saw the concern in her sister's face and threw her a reassuring glance. “I left and let her figure it out.”

Alex’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Wow. Good for you. She needs to figure her own shit out.”

“Well, I thought about staying,” Kara admitted. “But after what she shared—you didn’t see how afraid she looked. I thought it was more important to just hold space for her without any…distractions.” 

“You’re really trying to regain her trust,” Maggie surmised, her expression softening. “You didn’t jump on her confusion.”

The blonde nodded. “It’s for me too. I mean, Mon-El just initiated the paperwork, and I know this thing with Lena happened so fast…” 

She suddenly felt self-conscious and unsure, stung with these reminders of everything that seemed to be wrong, messy, difficult. 

“…and I guess I’m just—if I didn’t get it right before, if I failed with Mon-El, how do I really know what I want now? How do I know I’m not just going after another thing that won’t last?”

“You don’t know,” Maggie said, her eyes gentle. “But you’ve been weighing what’s really important to you this whole time, and you're taking steps based on what you're finding out, even though it's brought grief. It's okay to feel uncertain sometimes and pause. Like you said, changes don't happen overnight. You're trying to figure out who you are again.” 

Kara felt a sharp pain in her chest as she glanced away, uneasy.

“I don’t love this situation, obviously,” Alex murmured, looking slightly less wary, “but I’ve listened to you, Kara. You're not rushing. When this first started, you told me some part of you wanted this—even before you crashed her office. But I think you need to ask yourself if Lena is capable of moving on from what happened between you two. If she can’t let the past go, and can’t stop blaming and punishing you...do you think she can really love or support you again?” 

The Kryptonian sighed and rubbed at her hands. 

_I don’t know._

“This is a hunch, but—” Maggie’s voice was as gentle as her eyes, “—is it possible that you’re really, underneath what you said, maybe scared?”

Kara blinked in confusion as the train rattled along. “Sure, I…isn’t that what I was saying? I’m scared that I’m leaping at something?”

“Maybe it’s deeper,” the brunette replied. “I'm thinking about how Lena just tried to open up emotionally, and how huge that is. It's maybe a step beyond blame and punishment, what you’ve been fighting for,” she watched Kara with careful eyes, “but you’re…hitting the brakes and second-guessing yourself now? When it looks like there could be progress?”

There was a pause as the train screeched to another stop. A few businessmen got on at the far end, but otherwise the car remained empty, brightly lit.

“You think I’m afraid to trust myself,” Kara said. “That I’m afraid of change.”

“Maybe. It would make sense. Could be part of why you buried your feelings for so long, even before all this happened—fearing the change it might cause.” 

Kara reluctantly considered. 

“I think it’s _very_ wise to be cautious and consider the changes before making decisions,” Alex put in, leaning over as they began moving again, “but Maggie might have a point too. You never even told me about your feelings.”

“And maybe you bring up your “failure” with Mon-El to convince yourself you aren’t ready for this now,” Maggie added.

“ _Okay_ ,” Kara grumbled, blowing out a breath, “can you stop tag-teaming me? Rao. Sometimes I wish you both didn’t know me like this.”

They smiled at each other as she scowled, still reflecting on what was happening in herself and with Lena. 

“I mean, you’re probably right. Cat pointed it out years ago,” Kara said again. She was hardly audible over the train. “Diving in and trusting myself is…hard.”

Maggie shrugged. “It's like anything outside your comfort zone. It's natural for it be difficult.”

“That’s just it,” Kara said, giving another sigh. “With Mon-El it was comfortable, because he didn’t require a lot. But the stakes are so much higher with Lena. She’s been in the back of my mind for years, and now she’s…right in front of me. Literally in my arms. And I might be able to fix my mistakes, but—what if I mess this up and lose her again? Or what if she doesn’t want the same thing as me at all? And what if she never has, what if I'm making this whole story up in my head? Because half the time she still thinks I’m her enemy, and lumps me in with her family, and I can’t tell if she has any feelings, or if they’re real, because—” 

“Whoa, anxiety queen,” Maggie held up her hands, grinning. “Hold on. This is exactly why you should keep talking to her. What you did last night seemed to work, right? Why don’t you keep that going? Give her space to tell you the truth, and let her keep seeing that you’re not her enemy. Isn't that all you can really do?”

To Kara’s surprise, Alex was nodding.

“And protect yourself, Kara. I’m not going to tell you not to hope, because I know it’s against your nature, but—" her expression was reluctant, caring, "—please be careful with how you go about this. Don't let her break you.”

“I’ve been _trying_ to talk, and trying to be careful,” Kara complained, frustrated. “But things always get so tense, and we end up arguing, or...”

"Unresolved sexual tension?" Maggie floated. "I think if you keep working on what happened between you, as much as you can, it will help resolve things."

The train began decelerating for the couple’s stop. Kara inhaled deeply.

“I can,” she nodded. "I'm still in this."

As the cars jolted to a halt, LED signs scrolled out _Transfer to Line 2 –_ _Museum Campus, City Marina, National City University Main Campus…_

“I hope it doesn't take much longer for her to open up with you,” Maggie offered.

She joined hands with Alex, and they stood together. “You know we’ll be here,” Alex said, her voice a little warmer. She laid her other hand on Kara’s shoulder. "No matter what you decide to do or not do."

Kara smiled up at them. “Thanks for the support again. And have fun on your date—sorry to do all the talking...” 

“No,” Maggie laughed, “not at all. I’m glad you feel like you can still talk to us about this. Go enjoy your coffee date. Relax before tomorrow.”

The Kryptonian waved gratefully as they exited the train, leaving her to think. Two stops passed with little else to do but stare at the blackness outside the windows and the passing emergency lights of the tunnel. When she arrived at her stop, she took the stairs up, and felt her spirits lift somewhat as the sights of Chinatown greeted her. 

She trudged up the main street, scuffing her heels lightly along the concrete. The wind gusted and tangled in the air around her. It was cool outside—enough so that she zipped up her jacket to ward the chill off. She passed by modest places of business, many with several languages printed along the windows, lights flashing in various colors. People moved in and out of the stores with bags, some lugging tools and foods Kara could not recognize. 

The way was familiar by now. She turned down a narrow street, wondering how many of the passerby were immigrants, how many lived away from their families, how often they were able to return home. Her memories of Krypton and her own family returned to the forefront of her mind. 

What would it be like to return home to them, to see her mother and father? To hug them and speak in their native tongue? To eat a meal of homemade food?

What would they have to say about Lena?

Kara cast the wishful thoughts away with a heavy sigh. The park she’d eaten her dumplings in before was a bit further down, and she headed quickly there, seating herself not far from her last spot.

Her eyes meandered, studying the budding trees, their branches waving in the wind, then the group of children shrieking in the corner of the park. She heard the distant honking of traffic. Stringed music played faintly from someone’s window above; it mixed with the ringing of bells in the nearby temple, an odd harmony of sounds. The air felt dense in her lungs now, bursting, and difficult to hold in her chest. 

It wasn’t the only thing that was difficult to hold in.

She pursed her lips as Lena’s words resurfaced, whispering in her ears, more enticing than she wanted to admit. 

_Then what am I afraid of, Kara?_

Kara forced herself to think about how important it was to not compromise the little bit of trust, the little bit of pain Lena had let her hold last night. She could not risk messing this up again.

But Lena had looked at her lips. She’d seen it.

And that question did not only sound like another combative, sarcastic retort flung back in Kara’s face; Lena's voice had been filled with an undercurrent, a plea, an invitation just soft enough to make it seem like she had _wanted_ Kara to answer her, like it—it—

—like it was real.

Like she wanted Kara to take it.

And Kara had wanted to take it. The move was just too sudden, too hasty, and even now, she wasn’t entirely convinced that what she’d heard in Lena’s voice meant what she hoped and suspected it might. Even if she’d legitimately cracked Lena’s armor, that crack might not be anything more than an aberration. It might not be lasting, or it might be just another means of manipulation. 

She knew Alex and Maggie were right; she should be careful, and she and Lena needed to keep talking. _Actually_ talking. But it was one thing, a relatively safe yet hard enough thing, to push Lena to talk about something that had come up, something Kara knew was bothering her—being saved. That was already treading on thin ice. Pushing something with Lena that wasn’t exactly on the table, something like this suspicion, something she didn’t know with nearly the same level of certainty, might be the equivalent of taking a jackhammer to the ice and burying herself. There was a fine, fine line between a conversation that could move them forward and one that would break them apart. Again. 

_How much do I trust what my gut is telling me?_

She heard the bell from the temple steadily resonating and the low humming of voices in a chant. Breathing in, she tried to center herself. 

_Rao, help me here. Give me some—_

“It’s Lena Luthor, isn’t it?” 

Jumping, she turned to greet her coffee date.

“Cat,” she swallowed, standing clumsily from the bench. “I didn’t hear you, I was just thinking and I forgot th—”

“About Lena Luthor?” the older woman repeated. Her eyes were perceptive, incisive, as she approached.

“Uh…yes, actually,” Kara half-stammered, jamming her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “But why do you think—how do you, um, come to that—”

Cat rolled her eyes. 

“Please, spare me. What do you think I did as a gossip writer? Nobody holds onto someone they’ve saved long enough for a thousand photos and videos to circulate the internet unless there’s something going on.”

The Kryptonian flushed a little. 

“It wasn’t _that_ long,” she mumbled. "And a thousand is definitely an exaggeration."

Cat smoothly joined her by the bench. “Well, I saw enough to know what I saw.” 

Kara didn’t deny it. They sat silently, taking a moment to watch the park together. 

The verve and energy of the kids across the way held Kara’s attention; the little group began climbing across the vibrant play structures, chasing each other in the warm sun. She inhaled deeply, the sharp scent of Cat’s perfume mingling with the smell of Korean barbecue.

“She’s a bold choice,” her former mentor finally commented. “Not that I’m surprised.”

Kara glanced over and regarded Cat from behind her glasses.

“Why don’t you seem surprised by any of this?”

She thought she saw a small smile pull on Cat’s cheek.

“Because I know you,” the older woman murmured, turning to face her directly. “You worked for me. What's new or surprising about your attraction to a CEO who's at the top of her game?”

Her eyes were unflinching, steady, and Kara blinked, some heavy and crackling feeling in her chest as she gazed back at Cat. She licked her lips.

“Ms. Grant,” she coughed faintly, “I’m not sure—”

“There’s no need to revert to titles and roles to have a mature conversation about this,” Cat interrupted. It was not snapped at her; in fact, it was softer than Kara expected. “Simply talk to me. Or deflect, if that’s what you want. But I will ask that you don’t _Ms. Grant_ me.”

Kara felt herself breathing. 

“Okay.”

Again a breeze drifted through, and flocks of birds swooped into the towering, blooming tree in the middle of the park. The bench was hard and cool; Cat’s warmth radiated next to her, their shoulders touching. She swallowed. 

“You’re right,” she admitted. “It’s…not that new or surprising.”

The corner of Cat’s mouth definitely quirked upward now, and as Kara looked at her, she wished her powers included telepathy. Cat appeared pleased.

“Then I hope it will be different this time around, Kara.”

The Kryptonian nodded, a low pain beginning to vibrate in her solar plexus. 

“Me too.”

In the wind, tiny white blossoms floated downward, coming to rest gently across the ground. It was silent for another few seconds before Cat spoke again.

“You know, I’ve always considered the Luthors a family of vipers—pretentious, old-money opportunists,” she scoffed lightly, “but Lena has certainly made her own way. I can respect that.”

Kara frowned. “Okay, is all this—it sounds almost like…are you giving your approval?”

“That's irrelevant. You don't need anyone's approval, much less mine. But I would like to see that you’re—” Cat turned up her nose at the word, “—happy, or whatever.” 

She tilted her head, and Kara immediately felt a familiar scrutiny from the Queen of All Media. 

“Which you haven’t addressed yet. Are you happy?”

Kara adjusted her glasses, then fidgeted. “Well, Mon-El has left, moved out, everything,” she stalled, reaching for low-hanging fruit, “and I think that was for the better…”

Cat didn’t blink. “But?”

“But Lena…”

The Kryptonian bit her lip, then glanced away. 

“She’s dark, Cat. And there are times I accept that darkness, and times I wonder if it will ever leave her.”

“And if she will leave it,” the older woman murmured.

Kara reflected. 

“Yes. Both. I’m doing all I can to create…movement. It’s gotten a bit better between us, and I don’t regret trying to reach her. I just feel a little like I’m running into a closed doo. She’s still pretty cold.”

Cat nodded in thought; her expression returned to a slight frown.

“What’s holding her back?”

“I think it's the same thing. She’s not able to trust people easily, and I understand why—it’s just hard to endure,” Kara sighed, unfolding her hands, “because I was never _people_ to her. She used to trust me. Sometimes I feel so helpless…”

Cat put a hand on her knee. 

“You’re not sure she’ll ever trust you again. You might walk away empty-handed.”

Kara pursed her lips, listening to the chipper birdsong and children at play. She turned her gaze downward, hurting.

“Exactly.”

“Do _not_ get that look in your eye,” Cat swiftly admonished her, “I know that look, and I despise it. I didn’t say that to discourage you, only to acknowledge that, for all your gifts, even you can’t force this. But while it’s not totally within your control, I am also certain—I know very well that you—” 

As Kara stared at the jigsaw stone masonry under her feet, she sensed the older woman’s sudden difficulty. 

Cat cleared her throat.

“Sometimes it’s appropriate to accept the truth of what is not going to happen, to not force something that isn’t ready to be,” she said quietly, her words rueful. “But I know very well that you’re more powerful than you realize, Kara. Just as you are. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Kara looked up again, finding her mentor’s eyes cautious but warm.

“Sometimes people are much more like a house of cards than a cold steel fortress,” Cat continued. “They may seem immune, and they may never tell you something outright, but that doesn’t mean they don’t feel it.”

The hand on her knee remained light and gentle, safe. This moment was clear, and it was also painful, like sinking into ice water. She marveled at the unwavering steadiness in Cat’s eyes, the unusual openness in her face. The question burned on Kara's lips.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she whispered.

At the very edges of Cat’s gaze, she saw sadness. 

“How could I?” Cat said quietly. “I was your employer. You had your own pressing obligations. And even if those things weren’t true, I don’t think you were ready to confront...me, or yourself. Or what was happening. And frankly, for a long time, I—”

Kara watched her eyes flicker back and forth, as if searching for something.

“—I wasn’t ready, either.”

It was as close to embarrassed as Kara had ever seen her. 

A half-smile spread across the Kryptonian’s lips, and she sat without words. She was unsure how to acknowledge this, and on impulse, she placed her hand on Cat’s; she felt the strong, warm fingers under her own, and she held them.

To her surprise, Cat did not flinch or reprimand her.

“I’m not telling you this because I have some agenda,” Cat clarified. “I’m telling you because you asked.”

“I know,” Kara murmured, nodding. “And thank you, I—”

She sighed.

“I never expected to have this conversation. I never thought I’d have a chance to ask.”

Cat looked at her with a more characteristic fierceness now. 

“Well, you were brave enough to," she affirmed the Kryptonian. "And however this continues to unfold, know that I’m on your side. I’m here for you, Kara. In whatever way you need me to be.”

“Thank you,” Kara whispered again, a fullness in her heart.

The older woman gave a short nod in the silence.

“Now. I need _something_ to get me through the atrocious number of briefings I have scheduled this afternoon,” she groused, her surliness instantly returning, the moment vanishing. “You’d think we were preparing for the second coming of Christ Himself with these refugee landings tomorrow. The red tape and bleating of excuses will be intolerable. I need coffee.”

Kara grinned and released Cat’s hand. 

“Then let’s go. I know a place.”

“It’d better be good,” Cat said, rising. “Maybe on the way, you can tell me why I needed to travel all the way to Chinatown to get a coffee...”

* * *

  


As twilight deepened across National City, Lena strolled through the stone plaza in front of L Corp, on her way to study the finalized schedule of operations for tomorrow and review all the materials associated with it. Her team had verified with her that she’d be where she was most needed at any given time, her people had been briefed, and everyone could access resources to handle the landing process—or whatever else arose. The news outlets had already reported civil unrest.

When she took the elevator up and walked into her office, eager to finish her work, she realized someone was sitting at her desk. 

The back of her chair was turned to her, but an expensively-suited knee hung out from the side, just barely visible over the desk. Lena slowed and clutched her bag a little tighter. There were few people in the world both bold and powerful enough to make such a move, and she didn’t particularly like any of them.

“Nice view,” her visitor commented. The chair swiveled around with an air of drama. “Mine’s better.”

Lena narrowed her eyes at Cat Grant. 

“I didn’t know there was a competition between us, Ms. Grant,” the brunette replied, her voice low and guarded.

A light smile crossed the older woman’s face. “It’s not a competition. Simply a fact.”

Lena took a few steps closer. 

“Well, I’ll take your word for it,” she shrugged, uninterested in the lure. She kept her hand on her purse. “My security team neglected to tell me you were here, or what you’re here for. I assume it’s not to chat about the view.”

“That's exactly what I’m here for,” Cat said, leaning back in Lena’s chair. “As in, from where I’m standing, this little thing between you and Kara appears…fascinating.”

_Ah._

Lena allowed a satisfied smirk to play on her lips.

“She told you?”

Cat’s eyes flickered with offense, and her chin rose just slightly. “She didn’t. I knew it was you the moment I watched the videos. I saw how long you two lingered up there like that. I'm almost insulted by how little credit you give me, Ms. Luthor.”

“I give you more credit than you think, Ms. Grant,” Lena parried carefully. Their eye contact started to border on painful; neither would break it. “She said she lied to you, but you've clearly figured out who she is. Whereas I had to be told.”

“Which is why my view is better,” Cat said. “I’ve known her in a different way, and for a longer period of time. What I'm really curious about, though, is who _you_ are.” 

Lena half-sneered.

“Surely even the intimate details of my life are at the fingertips of a former media magnate. Someone as well-connected as you would know who I am.”

Cat’s look turned frank. “Perhaps, but I’ve taken time out of this long, tedious, alcoholism-inducing day,” she drawled, “to have a conversation with you personally before I get on a plane and deal with the nation’s drama in D.C.”

_This will be good._

“Then you have ten minutes,” Lena replied, her hand finally loosening for her purse. “I don’t have much patience for chatting with government representatives. I’ve yet to meet one I like.”

“And I have very little patience for idiots,” the older woman returned, warning her. “I’ve honed my sense for them, and I’m rarely wrong. You never struck me as an idiot. In fact, your deliberate separation from your family tells me you’re fully capable of extracting your head from your ass. Yet here we are.”

Lena’s eyebrows rose. She stood there warily, waiting, as Cat continued to study her from the desk. The older woman clasped her hands and then rested her chin on them.

“It’s unclear to me if it’s humility, therapy, or just a timely reminder you need,” she mused, “but I'd advise you to practice that extraction when it comes to Kara.”

A tiny smile graced Lena’s lips.

“Well, I can see why she respected you,” she murmured, crossing her arms. “Let me be equally direct. I'd advise you to practice extracting your nose from business that isn't yours—but I know that’s asking too much of someone in the media industry.”

Cat rose languidly. “Touché. But I don’t do this to be nosy.”

“No? What for, then?” Lena muttered. “Kara? Did she send you?”

“Don’t insult me,” Cat growled. 

“Then enlighten me.”

By the fire in her eyes, Lena knew she would.

“I may not know you, but I know the demands of this job and this world. I enjoy a little revenge as much as the next female executive, and I know what it’s like to put the war paint on, to have to be untouchable,” Cat said, coming around the desk. Her strides landed in straight, forceful lines, and despite herself, Lena felt nervousness creep into her fingers.

“I know how it molds you, how it warps you. It normalizes certain things. It creates a cold, lonely box that you end up spending your life in, thinking ambition is the only fuel you need. You start to like it. And that box is what I see when I look at you.”

Cat came to a stop in front of her, their energies colliding, two magnets of the same polarity. Several dismissive thoughts directed at the other woman went through Lena’s mind and vied for a place in her mouth.

But the strange forcefulness of Cat’s presence pushed something else out of her.

“I wasn’t exactly given a choice,” she whispered, the words smaller than she intended. "I didn't choose any of this."

Cat's eyes didn't leave her. “We’re all given a choice. And with everything you’ve been through,” she lowered her voice, “I think you know that better than anyone.”

Lena felt a slight sting. 

“People deserve to reap what they sow,” she argued defensively, her anger rushing in. “I spent so much of my life trying to connect with people who just hurt me. It only stops when I hurt them back. Violence produces violence.”

“Maybe,” Cat said, continuing to hold Lena’s gaze. “But are you really just hurting Kara back, or are you also hurting her preemptively?”

Jaw tense, Lena was pressed to concentrate on the new, airtight container that kept her feelings and doubts still, in stasis. 

Cat poked harder.

“You can’t bullshit me, because I’ve played this game, Lena. I was a fool. I lost people, I shut them out, I wouldn’t let them know me. I thought it was all justified, I thought it made me powerful. Untouchable and without weakness. Always on the offensive,” Cat repeated, speaking slowly, softly. “It was a long time before I chose to reconsider. By that point, I needed to rethink my entire worldview.”

The underlying anxiety Lena felt mingled with a grudging respect; the blonde’s mettle and forthrightness were impressive. She’d expected that Cat would leap to Kara’s defense, as Alex had done, or perhaps personally attack her, as Mon-El had. But Catco’s former CEO was attempting to mirror her instead.

And indeed, she saw something in Cat Grant that she recognized.

“Why would you make that choice?” she murmured, still leery. 

Cat paused and glanced away for a second. “I hurt someone deeply. Someone I cared about. And my mind could lie to me—that I did it to protect myself, that she deserved it for one reason or another, that it was business—but my emotions were more honest,” she murmured, “and eventually I had to deal with what they might mean. That self-realization affected every relationship in my life. It was profoundly…humbling.” 

Lena searched her face for some sign that she was exaggerating. The search was in vain, and the older woman took another step forward, her heels clacking loudly in the office. She looked Lena in the eye.

“How much more pain do you need to experience before you admit what you’re doing and why?”

Lena’s gaze betrayed a trace of sorrow. 

_Do you have any idea how high my pain tolerance is?_

“How much longer do you want to stay in your box?” Cat pushed her quietly. Lena could now see the lines of her face, the fading of her makeup, the hard weariness in her eyes. “Or do you not even see it as a box yet?”

“When you’ve spent your life in that box, it’s hard to see it for what it is,” Lena replied, swallowing. “Even if you want to.”

“Others can see it. Maybe you think Kara is too invested to be a reliable witness, and you don't believe her,” Cat murmured, “but I’m a third party, and I can see it. I can also tell you it's possible to escape—if you take some responsibility for being in there.”

“I’m not responsible for other people’s shitty behavior,” Lena protested bitterly.

“You’re not,” Cat agreed, “you’re only responsible for your reaction to it, and your reaction has been that you’ve decided not to trust anyone. That's the box. But I think you want to trust. Nobody goes through life hoping to do it all alone, to be a stranger to everyone around them.”

The press secretary tilted her head, frowning, considering, her gaze confident and observant. Lena didn't like it at all.

“Kara drove an arrow into your heart a long time ago. You’re the one who drove a second arrow in, and you’re the one who has to pull it out. You can’t expect Kara to do that for you. You have to make the decision to trust again.”

 _You’re the one who has to answer that question,_ Kara’s voice came back.

Lena felt glassiness in her eyes, fear.

“I think you’ve made your point,” she said, voice tight, allowing nothing else. 

There was a very small pause.

“Then I’ll be on my way,” Cat decided, finally breaking eye contact. She breezed around the other woman without ado. “I don’t need to take up any more of your time or mine. But when you pull that arrow out—” 

The brunette turned to watch her leave; the blonde looked back over her shoulder as she made her exit.

“—pull up your big girl pants, because it’s going to bleed. And then it’s going to heal.”

She disappeared through the doors, and Lena let out a long breath.

Her heart started to slow. She moved to her gleaming desk and set her purse down slowly. The small alcohol selection in her office beckoned in the silence; she went to it instead of sitting in the chair Cat had just vacated. Her fingers automatically poured a glass, and then she walked to the balcony for some air.

Leaning over it, red wine in hand, alone, she half-heartedly studied the scene below. Well-dressed socialites thronged across the streets. They were lit briefly under neon lights, dodging each other before returning to darkness. Intermittent honking punched the air. It was offset by the thumping of a club, the noisy brass of a jazz lounge, the staccato tat-tat-tat of a street drummer. This cacophony echoed up the sides of the surrounding skyscrapers. From there it was lifted by the warm breeze, which also carried the smell of acrid exhaust and fried chicken to her nose. 

Of course, she could take the elevator down, walk out onto National City’s streets, and stroll into a ritzy restaurant down the block, or see a production at the opera house or from the symphony orchestra, or drop by a new club, or one of the city’s exclusive and overpriced lounges. There were any number of ways to entertain herself—to feel good, to leave the past where it should be. 

But instead she stood glued to the smooth concrete, stuck with the poison leaking from her inner container, spurting from the tiny hole Cat had punctured and over the edge of the balcony, disappearing into the darkening air, a fine mist of agony. 

Her mind wandered around the edges of Cat’s words, her argument. From a stranger it sounded different, clearer, deprived of the emotional charge Kara’s carried. Yet what Cat had proposed, or perhaps predicted, was infinitely more radical.

She looked up into the night sky. In the darkness, she saw the look on Kara’s face the night the Kryptonian had come to offer sexual submission, remembered the sinewy lines of Kara's body as she’d held the door aloft, felt the tension in Kara's mouth the first time they'd kissed.

With it, she recalled the sawtoothed remnants of rage that had consumed her in the aftermath of Kara’s intrusion—the waking of a sleeping, vengeful beast. 

_How dare she._

Until last night, that beast had taken on the shape of something romanticized: it seemed justified, necessary to unleash, to exorcise. A great equalizer between them. A great shield. And an infallible way to ensure she was protected from everything she didn’t want to feel, everything that could hurt her.

Now the beast was freed, but it had left a vacuum, and she couldn’t breathe in it. She couldn't quite orient herself. The neat, idealized image of how her revenge would play out no longer existed.

To step towards Kara, as she had last night, meant seeing the outlines of ugliness in the beast, the outlines of her own savagery, and, worst of all, seeing the pain she had continued to inflict reflected back, differently, softly, in Kara's eyes.

Nausea trickled into her stomach—but her own pride and justification were not quelled. The concept of responsibility lingered at the edge of her awareness, inert, like some nebulous thing that she could not quite grasp with both hands just yet, something too protected. A sword in the stone. 

_I will not make myself the villain in this story,_ she repeated to herself, _when it was Kara who did this. Who made it impossible for this to be any other way._

Yet Kara had given her nothing to work with last night, not an inch of weakness, not one wrong move. In fact, Lena was hard-pressed to criticize anything she had done. Even when trying to entice Kara, the Kryptonian had maintained her balance, commitment, and strength. She was not the coward and wavering fool she had been.

Perhaps the hero Lena had once known really could be there.

And it felt...good. Lena blinked, hardly able to recognize or believe _good_ , what it felt like, buried under the weight of her stories and vengeful anger. But there it was: it felt good to see Kara step up.

She kept her face turned to the night sky, her hope sneaky and rising, whispering to her like a child on its tiptoes.

_Come back. Show me again._

Taking a sizable sip of wine, she tried to swallow feelings bubbling too close to the surface. 

She turned abruptly and reached for the balcony door, for the work that would distract her and give her something to bury herself in. Her hands pressed against cool glass. As she did so, ambient city light hit the door just right, illuminating the pockmarks of bullets and the foreign alphabet etched elegantly across its borders. She halted, pained, angered by the word there.

Honesty.

In a flash, she was floating in midair; she saw the gentle look on Kara’s face, felt Kara's arms around her body—the moment time had skipped backwards and then disappeared altogether, as if nothing stood between the two of them at all.

And that _stupid_ feeling of exhilaration that had followed Kara's exit... 

_It’s your fear to face, Ms. Luthor._

How could she have wasted all the time she’d spent ridding herself of this? How could she let it throw her again?

This was how she ruined her life and traumatized herself. She knew better.

Her jaw clenched as she pushed forcefully into her office, unable to get away from her thoughts for more than a few seconds. She sat at her desk with a violent swoop into her chair, opening her laptop, determined to shut down all of these catastrophic, anxiety-provoking spirals. But her phone beeped, and then beeped a few more times. She glared at it. 

After a second, her fingers reached over. By now the news was well-known that she had been saved—again—by Supergirl. This time it was documented with pictures, opinions, and its own hashtag, and came with a deluge of now-muted social media notifications. A few samples and a statement had just been sent from her PR head in preparation for press questions during the refugee landings tomorrow.

**_@CatcoWWM:_ ** _Supergirl rescues @LenaLuthor after a harrowing fall from the upper floors of L Corp last night, wowing onlookers below. The CEO was allegedly attacked by a group of suspects claiming affiliation with the Coalition for Humanity. [IMG] #SGxLL_

**_@NCNews:_ ** _Rare sighting: @LenaLuthor and Supergirl share a few moments above National City. Witnesses described a spectacular midair save after Ms. Luthor reportedly exchanged gunfire with intruders. The two women haven’t been photographed together in years. [IMG] #SGxLL_

**_@SuperheroWatch:_ ** _Got pics of @LenaLuthor and Supergirl in National City last night? Send ‘em here and keep ‘em coming! We’ve waited WAY too long to see this duo back in action! #SGxLL Hope @PressSecGrant doesn't mind if we bow down to the other queens of National City!_

_More for #SGxLL:_

_okay we havent seen these 2 sharing the same space in years and suddenly THIS? coincidence??? i think the fuck not. who thawed this ice somebody better spill #SGxLL_

_#Sgxll please tell me they were banging after that_

_About damn time for this partnership to rise. We need them now more than ever. Imagine the power couple potential. #SGxLL_

_#SGXLL ASLKDGSLKDFSGK LOIS LANE AND CLARK KENT WHO_

_might be a mess but I am here for it. #sgxll_

Lena had started to become vaguely aware of the feeling in her chest when an alert flashed across the screen, interrupting her reading. Her eyes went wide with horror. 

_BREAKING: Lex Luthor Missing From Supermax Facility_

She immediately snapped her laptop shut, then removed the Kryptonite knife and the pistol from her drawer. Everything went into her purse. She was out the door in seconds, calling her driver.

It took longer than she ever remembered to get to her building, and even as she instructed the driver to wait, she wondered how much time she had. Her thoughts arranged themselves neatly in her mind, forming a task list, a workflow, her focus sharpening. She needed to arm herself with more than a pistol, and she wanted to remove two drives she kept in her apartment, as well as a few Kryptonite objects. 

When she keyed into her penthouse, she found she was already too late. 

Lex stood near one of her couches, clad in a simple white tunic with her second Kryptonite knife in hand, his gaze fixed on it.

“My dear sister,” he murmured, “we meet again at last.”

Lena’s initial shock smoothed, becoming something more impassive, more controlled. Meeting him was like muscle memory. She stepped confidently into the room, and the years fell away. Their match began with her walking towards the kitchen.

“Lex,” she returned evenly. “You look well. Can I get you something to drink?”

His eyes rose to observe her, curious at the pleasantry. 

“That’s generous.” 

“It’s _polite_ ," she curtly corrected him, "but I can understand how a drink with someone might seem generous to a supermax inmate." 

Still poker-faced, he scrutinized her as she reached the counter. “Incarceration _does_ tend to limit one’s means. But luckily, forced austerity and isolation are not insurmountable obstacles for a determined man…”

“And you’ve always been determined,” she said. Her purse landed with a thump, her body positioned behind the marble countertop, just in case he was armed. “I’m just not sure what it is you’re determined to do right now, and why you need me for it.”

She smiled at him. He smiled back. Neither smile held any warmth.

“I was hoping you might consider an idea, Lena,” her brother went on. The knife was being hefted and waved absently now, the movements of his body more stiff than fluid. “Actually, it’s more like a proposal.”

“A proposal for _me_? The bastard Luthor?” she said sharply, smirking. “I thought you were always the _true_ genius, Lex. The real Luthor heir. And you have your own following now...so what could I possibly give you?”

Lex stilled. She watched his bony fingers trace the gleaming green blade, this knife longer than the one at her office, more properly a dirk or short sword. 

“You know, that stings a little. I never treated you as less-than or inferior based on your birth circumstances, even when we disagreed. Whether you’ll be my opponent or ally, we're still family.”

Lena’s face tightened at the reminder. 

“That doesn't answer the question. Why you would pitch a proposal to me after escaping the prison I helped put you in?” she said, her voice low.

“So suspicious, such lack of trust,” Lex’s eyes met hers, “when you haven’t heard the proposal yet.” 

Annoyed, she gestured towards the refrigerator. “Well, since you seem to be in no hurry to reveal it, did you want a drink or not?”

“No, thank you.” 

Lena retrieved a glass for herself and poured water as Lex watched near the couch, the Kryptonite knife close to his side.

“Let me come to the point. I understand that you’ve made significant progress restoring confidence in the Luthor name, and I must admit I’m impressed by what you’ve done,” he began, still faintly condescending. “You’ve been able to secure a legacy for yourself.”

Facing her, he seemed completely in control and at ease, and Lena wondered for a moment if he had his followers here, if they were positioned outside somewhere and trapping them here. She remained silent, thinking.

“Simply put, the public trusts you more than they ever did me, and by that trust you are empowered to do what you like. I acknowledge the effectiveness and usefulness of your strategy.” 

Lena narrowed her eyes. “I don’t need or want your acknowledgement.”

“Understandable. So then this is what I propose,” Lex quickly transitioned. “To start, we work together. Specifically in developing tools to help resolve the refugee crisis in orbit, with a focus on biomedical research. And that will only be the beginning.” 

“The landings have already been planned and gone ahead,” she pointed out, unimpressed. "We've been working on this."

“Sure, but let’s be realistic—Earth cannot accommodate all the immigrants,” he returned. “You know what kind of resource strain this wave of immigration will eventually cause. And what happens when word gets out that we're opening up the planet, and more aliens stop on our doorstep?”

She shook her head. “It can’t be worse than whatever hidden genocidal plan you’ve concocted.”

Now he stepped forward, moving toward the counter, deliberate. “You wound me, Lena. Why don’t we start by just giving me limited access to Luthor Corp? Let me show you I have no ill intentions. I just want to share in a legacy like yours.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Because it’s easier to manipulate people when they think you’ve changed and you’re a hero.”

He shook his head.

“I’m merely asking for a chance to show you. I have an underground network willing to harbor me, plus secure, anonymous methods of staying in contact with you. Our connection would be invisible," he pressed, his eyes steady, beady. "Think about how I can benefit you. I can help you change the world _and_ change the Luthor name, once and for all. Imagine what we could accomplish for the world as a team.”

She snorted, loudly, and wondered if her brother really believed she would fall for this. 

“So, disregarding the fact that you didn't outright deny having a nefarious plan, and the minor hiccup of working with a fugitive felon—who’s part of my family, a fact which already makes me a prime suspect in your disappearance—you expect me to believe you would never stab me in the back and implicate me in your escape from prison after I gave you access?” she laid out, her look scathing. “Or that you wouldn’t otherwise betray me after I’m already entangled in whatever this scheme is really about?” 

He said nothing for the moment, and she shook her head back at him in disgust.

“Lex, just admit you want me to volunteer access to the company. You only need me for that access and my image. We both know you’d use me as a figurehead for whatever you’re doing, then eventually extort my compliance and have me offed.” 

“I _do_ need you,” he conceded, his voice soft, eyeing her directly. She was momentarily confused by the look on his face. “I would vastly prefer to have you at my side than not. But for more than just access or image, Lena. You know I became unbalanced and overzealous when I ran Luthor Corp. You, on the other hand, have managed to rebuild it, run it, and improve it. You have the balance I lack. You are the perfect buffer, the perfect check on my ambition, and if I destroyed you, I would destroy that. It would destroy me. Your heart is the solution for my ego and insensitivity. It’s why I came here instead of to our mother. She has no heart. She can’t help me.” 

This was a new play for Lex, a play at self-reflection, and Lena was forced to consider, however doubtfully, whether someone with an ego as unhealthy as her brother’s could reform himself or develop that capacity for self-reflection at all. 

She remembered him as patient and kind when they were younger, before he became the person the world knew him as, and despite everything—his crimes, his attempts to get to her, and even what she’d long told herself, that some people were just bad and couldn’t be helped—it was one of her deepest hopes that he could be redeemed. 

He was her brother.

Unlike the rest of the world, she saw in him both the conniving monster and the brilliant young boy who had protected her, connected with her, taught her…and she longed for that boy to return and do the type of good in the world only he could do. 

Instead, he’d allowed and encouraged his own darkness, he’d abandoned his role as an older brother and protector, and now there were things she’d been forced to learn because of it. But even after her learning, her resilience, it didn’t mean that what he’d done hurt less. Or made her less angry at him.

And deep down, she hurt and raged because she knew the monster who looked at her was within her as well. 

“What if I don’t agree to this proposal?” she asked quietly, challenging him with her eyes.

He shrugged.

“That would be unfortunate, because I would have to press you for your cooperation. Speaking of which—as I understand it, Supergirl seems to have become quite close to you lately. Some of my disciples are currently taking care of her—” 

The sound of gunshots erupted from outside, startling Lena. Both Luthors looked to the door, and she reacted quickly, drawing the gun in her purse and training it squarely on her brother.

“Who is that?” she demanded, eyes cutting through him. She yanked the slide back to ready the weapon. “No bullshit, Lex.”

More gunshots pierced the air, closer. Lex changed his stance and flipped the knife so that it was nearer his chest, blade pointed downward and slightly back, ready to lunge and stab.

“I have no idea, Lena,” he murmured, creeping slowly toward the door, “but I think we’re about to find out.” 

Shouted expletives could be heard, then the harsh sound of drywall cracking and crumbling. Lena lowered herself to make sure the counter covered most of her body, waiting, sighting her brother as he moved, one eye on the door. 

Then the window exploded. 

Kara came through it, a blur, and Lex had barely turned before he was blasted to the ground. Glass fell from the window frame, skittering across the floor, as gunfire continued in the hallway and Kara was tangled atop Lex.

Lena found her voice. 

“Supergirl! What—”

She stopped speaking when she noticed Kara had lolled to the side as she tried to stand. The hero staggered over one step, then two. Lena could see, very suddenly, that the Kryptonite blade was buried deep into her abdomen, a fluke of Lex's positioning. Kara’s hands shook in agony. She tried in vain to touch the handle and remove the blade, her face an awful grimace, her breaths sharp with pain. 

“Kara,” Lena breathed, automatically moving.

Lex was groaning from the floor and coughing violently, trying to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him. The gunfire lulled. It enveloped them all in a tense, crawling silence. 

Kara dropped to one knee, too weak to fully stand, as Lena arrived at her side. 

“His men are…outside…for you…” the Kryptonian hissed at her, eyes on Lex.

That was all she needed for confirmation; Lena turned toward her brother and held the pistol up once more. Her eyes hardened.

“For _my_ protection,” Lex wheezed in explanation, getting to his knees. He clutched at his solar plexus through the plain tunic as he stood up. “They’re not…here to hurt _you_ …I _need_ you, Lena…” 

She felt Kara’s eyes on her, intent, wondering what she was about to do, and all at once the anger she’d been carrying into this room, and the deeper rage of her entire life—always being looked at sideways, always being asked to choose sides, always forced to peel back layers and layers of others' lies and play chess, to constantly distrust others—exploded. 

_This_ , this wound that never stopped seeping, was how she had grown into a monster, into someone who was caught, trapped, blind, unable to ever settle into a state of peace. 

_You have to make the decision to trust again._

And she needed to start with herself and her own instincts.

“You came here to use me, Lex,” she growled down at him, swallowing. “To prey on me and then leave me holding the bag, just like the rest of the family does. We both know no one in this family is honest. I’m fucking done with it.”

The rapport of gunfire resumed outside the room; she shot the monster inside it once and for all. 

He went down again, blood spurting through his stomach as he crumpled to the floor.

“By the way,” she threw at him, shaking, “it isn't Luthor Corp anymore, and it’ll never, ever be again.”

The door to her apartment blew open at last, and a gun-toting Alex Danvers came charging through it. 

“Supergirl needs help,” Lena called out immediately, hoping the faint note of desperation in her voice would be enough to convince Kara’s sister that she wasn’t the threat.

Alex noted Lena’s pistol and Lex’s matching injury, calculating for a moment, then offered a tight nod to the brunette. Her gaze then darted to Kara, who was on her knee, holding one hand to the ground to keep herself upright. The blonde’s face had turned faintly green. The agent rushed to her, wrapping a hand around the knife’s handle. She extracted it with care and flung it across the room. 

“I need…some sunlight,” Kara whispered, gripping her sister’s shoulder with one hand. 

Alex nodded, her face focused with concern, and began to help the Kryptonian over to the shattered window. 

Lena simply watched this all happen; she felt dazed as she let DEO agents sweep the room around her. They collected the discarded Kryptonite knife and worked to cuff her brother, who was groaning softly while blood continued to soak through his white tunic.

“I thought you’d turned soft…and sensitive…” he grunted at her, his distaste clear, all artifice gone, “with all that charity work…that self-righteousness and _her_ …” 

His eyes flicked to the window. Kara had managed to lift off.

Then the ghost of a smile appeared on his face.

“But I see you’re…still ruthless, shooting your own brother…still a Luthor…”

Lena’s jaw tightened. She turned away from him, her eyes catching Alex, looking over at them. It was obvious that her brother’s jabs were overheard—the agent’s eyes had changed. 

"Hold on," Alex told the DEO team.

She strode over and glared down at Lex.

“You came here and forced her to make this choice," the redhead hissed, crouching to look him in the eye, "because you're a shitty excuse for a brother and a human being. She chose Supergirl and herself, and all of us, instead of you. You can live in your denial all you want, but she's broken the Luthor mold. No amount of your bullshit can glue it back together, Lex.” 

She nodded up at the DEO agents.

Lena stared at her, wide-eyed. She didn’t hear the response from Lex as he was dragged out of the room; she was distracted by an uncomfortable swell of gratitude for Alex Danvers, and it momentarily overwhelmed her. 

She recovered when the agent stood from the floor and cleared her throat.

“We neutralized the rest of the men in the building, all aligned with his movement," Alex reported. "Looks like he was just biding his time in prison and planning his escape to coincide with something bigger.”

“Sounds like Lex,” Lena muttered. She sighed and slowly turned back to the kitchen.

The two of them were alone now.

"Are you okay?"

It sounded like it might have hurt the agent to ask. Lena sighed, considering, as she reached the counter.

“More or less. I know who he is, but sometimes I still hope he’s changed," she admitted in a low voice, tentatively sharing. "You know, he...taught me everything when we were younger, he wasn’t always—”

She shook her head ruefully as she stared down at her glass of water and finished the sentence. 

“Well, he wasn’t always _quite_ like this.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex said quietly, folding her arms over herself.

Lena placed her hands on the marble countertop. Some part of her…yes, some part of her felt she should talk about this, now, with Alex Danvers, of all people. 

_Because_ _apparently_ _I have a weakness for the whole family._

And because Lex was a painful reminder of another betrayal, another void in her life—where a sibling had once been, where someone like Alex Danvers should have been.

“He was my role model,” she started to explain, awkwardly, “and he was supposed to stick with me, protect me, support what I was doing. And do great things on his own.” 

She shook her head as Alex silently watched her. “Instead, he betrayed me. He turned into someone I have to apologize for and fight against. Someone I can't trust. And he hasn’t been the only one in my life who’s done this. Can you—” she looked at Alex directly, appealing to her, “—can you understand that?”

With this unspoken reference to Kara, Alex looked ambivalent.

“I understand that secrets and betrayal have deeply affected who you are, and what you have to do, and maybe I haven’t been so patient with that,” the agent replied diplomatically. “But I hope _you_ can understand that what you experienced is exactly why I’m so protective of Kara. I’m her big sister. As I told you, I won’t stand for you or anyone hurting her.”

Lena met her eyes. She sensed the strained, sort-of truce they were arriving at, and she nodded her agreement to it. 

“Of course. You’re doing everything I wish someone had done for me. I won't begrudge you that,” the brunette acknowledged. She swallowed, feeling strangely compelled to tell Alex the truth she wouldn't tell herself. “And I’m...I want this to be different. I'm trying to figure it out.”

In the heavy pause that followed, Kara stepped through the gaping space in the window, startling them both.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the hero said hastily, staring between them, “I thought your talk was over.” 

The two glanced toward each other for confirmation.

“It’s fine,” Lena said, slightly uncomfortable.

“We have an understanding,” Alex agreed. She made pointed eye contact with Kara. “Go ahead and take it from here. I need to get back to headquarters anyway. I’ll see you there later, Kara?”

“Yes,” the Kryptonian replied.

Alex nodded to her and then to Lena before briskly exiting. 

Kara’s eyes moved back to the brunette. “Are you okay?” 

Lena half-smiled at the repeated question as she surveyed yet another array of fractured glass, of broken windows. 

“Relatively,” she answered.

“Good,” the blonde nodded. “Can we talk?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N2: How's it coming? Cat Grant struck again to help out, I incorporated some feedback. :) I'm fascinated at how noble she is, I didn't expect this when I started.


	14. Our Silences Were Never Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, y'all, what a shitshow my life is right now--at this point I'm just happy to post before the end of the year. [Re-posted to reflect the actual date and to erase the A/N]. Here it is! Sorry for any typos, oddities, and whatever didn't quite get polished...I hope you can simply enjoy this for what it is. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope this sends somebody into the new year with a positive. I know some of us gotta take what we can get at this point with 2020, and the holidays aren't always great times in general either, so even if it's as small a thing as a fanfic chapter, I hope it helps. :)

Glass splintered and crunched under Kara’s boots as she took a few steps.  


“I don’t know if having a conversation right now is wise,” Lena replied. She reached for her water, for the coolness of glass under her hands. “This apartment is a mess, I just shot my brother...”

Kara kept walking toward her. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Lena answered. She was already tucking that away neatly, putting it on some shelf in her mind. Her voice hardened. “He had it coming.”

“He’s still your brother.”

Lena almost laughed. “Not in any way that matters anymore,” she murmured. The silent, enduring concern in the blonde's eyes irritated her, and she took a swift drink of water. “I told you a long time ago, Kara—some people are just bad. And this proves they don’t change.”

Although she was sure Kara had a contrary opinion, the Kryptonian surprised her by electing not to comment or argue. Lena watched her lean against the other side of the island instead, then crane her neck, gradually taking in the sleek, minimalistic décor around the apartment.

 _Kara’s never been here._

A jarring self-consciousness hit her. She sipped intently at her water again, trying to distract herself as the blonde looked at her personal space for the first time.

Or what Lena _assumed_ was the first time, but...maybe wasn't, as she thought about it. Kara obviously had access to her home address in some capacity; she'd known how to get here. It was possible that she _had_ been here at some point. Maybe airborne, outside. For whatever reason.

She took yet another sip of water.

_It's irrelevant now, and I couldn't care less what she thinks about my space. I couldn't._

_And I'm not giving her a tour._

Kara’s gaze returned to her after a moment, unaware.

“I’m sorry about your window—again,” she offered sheepishly. Her right hand gestured back to the living room. “I can help you clean that up...” 

Lena’s eyes flickered to the dark curtains billowing in the breeze and the shattered crystals strewn across the floor. She wanted to refuse Kara’s help on principle, but balked at the thought of collecting the spray of tiny glass shards herself, and so reluctantly nodded her assent. 

A small blast of air erupted while Lena bent to find a place for her now-empty cup in the dishwasher. When she closed its door and looked up, she saw that much of the debris had been piled into a corner of the room, forming a haphazard, craggy mound. She raised her eyebrows.

“Useful abilities,” she muttered. "Hadn't thought of the domestic applications."

Kara gave her a dry look from across the counter. “They can be even more useful when I’m not working against Kryptonite.”

Lena frowned before recognizing the familiar, if subtle, strain in Kara’s expression. And as if that wasn't clear enough, the blonde's eyes dropped to her purse. 

_Of course._

Swallowing, Lena glanced down and reached into it. Her fingers found the knife buried among her things, sharp as ever. She wrapped her hand around its smooth, molded hilt and drew it with care.

Kara’s chin lifted, her body recoiling by a small degree, as Lena deliberately held the weapon aloft over the counter, between them. She felt the dynamic instantly shift.

_I am in control. I have the power here._

The Kryptonian’s jaw had tautened, her lips pressed together. The knife held her focus. Lena studied the unnatural constriction of her face and the discomfort radiating from her eyes with interest. She called on the feeling of cold, calm reassurance to return to her body—some part of her longed to reclaim power over Kara. But her heart only started to beat louder as the silence extended, and she was forced to admit that she felt neither reassured nor powerful. 

She only felt guilty. 

_If Kara fully trusted you, her eyes wouldn't be on the knife right now. They'd be on yours._

A light tremor went through her hand. On instinct, she backed away from the counter and pulled the weapon to her side, out of Kara's sight.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” she said, her throat suddenly tight. Her face warred with itself and made an odd grimace. “I…”

_I brought the knife because of Lex. To prevent him from getting his hands on it._

_No, that's not right._

_I brought it because...because I wanted to feel safe. From...you._

_Even though you haven't made me feel unsafe._

_It's just that I've never felt more unsafe around someone._

She blinked incredulously at herself.

 _Jesus Christ. Does this make any sense?_

“Let me put this somewhere,” she blurted out instead, turning to make a hasty escape to the study. 

Light filtered into the stately, gilded room from the hall as she entered. Even though deep shadows obscured the corners and edges of the space, she didn’t bother to turn on a lamp. She knew her study by heart. Standing in its center, she focused on the thin outlines of books stacked in her library as she held onto the knife. It somehow seemed unnecessary to have the thing at all now. She shoved it into the only shielded drawer in the apartment—one built into the desk, as it was in her office, but which could also be fitted to her nightstand. Then she walked back to the front of the desk to face her books once more.

Taking a moment to breathe, she collected herself and took stock.

_What's happening with Kara is getting to you. And perhaps that's because things are more complicated than they were at the beginning, but it doesn't excuse carelessness and recklessness. Stop. Control yourself._

She was certain this interaction with Kara would end disastrously if she couldn’t collar her emotions. Sighing, she rubbed at her temples in frustration, wishing it could be as simple to rub away her own rash, foolish impulses. 

Kara’s steps sounded lightly from behind. Lena turned to find her standing in the doorway, her suit framed by the warm hallway light.

_And here comes that talk._

“You know, you didn’t need to make that Kryptonite knife or seduce me,” the blonde offered. She took a few steps towards Lena. “I mean, wouldn't destroying Supergirl have been easier if you just...revealed to the world who I was? You could have done it a long time ago and saved yourself all this trouble...” 

Lena folded her arms across her chest and felt herself hunker down.

“I doubt endangering innocent people and fielding the public's abuse would be as easy as you think," she replied coolly, _or have you forgotten that I'm a Luthor?_ Her eyes shone with a steel veneer as she continued. "And your hypothetical is amusing, but as I told you, I wanted nothing to do with you after you left. I certainly never devised some plan to destroy you."

Kara paused, frowning lightly. “Maybe you didn't intend to right after I left, but can you really say this hasn't been about destroying me? About you wanting to seduce me as a means—”

Lena snorted at that; her eyebrows rose.

“ _I_ wanted to seduce you?” She leaned back against the desk, feeling more assured by this familiar ground. “ _You_ wanted this—some part of you did—when you showed up that first night. And every time after. I simply saw an opportunity.”

“...To destroy me."

Lena shook her head. “To make sure that being around me, if you insisted, would cost you. In a very personal and painful way."

_One's punishment should fit their crime._

Kara seemed mildly perplexed, as if this hadn't been what she expected to hear or quite where she'd thought the conversation would go. After a moment of consideration, the Kryptonian looked at her with a more determined expression.

“Okay,” she fidgeted a little, “if you wanted it to be personal and painful...then why did you insist on having sex that way?”

Lena felt a smirk play across her lips as she regarded the blonde from the desk. She cleared her throat softly.

“What way are you referring to, Kara?”

Kara stiffened at the undercurrent in her voice.

“In that position—” the Kryptonian gave her a look, “—with a toy, while you said upsetting thi—”

“Why does it matter?” Lena interrupted smoothly. “I thought you weren’t ashamed of what happened.”

“I’m not. It was just—” Kara struggled to articulate the point, gesturing, “—it felt cold. Neither of us had to look at each other, or even touch each other. How can you consider that…personal?”

Lena came forward from the desk. Her steps were light and quick, and when she halted in front of Kara, she met her gaze very, very evenly.

The air in the room burned.

“Sounds like it is personal," she whispered tightly, "like it bothered you, sharing a private part of yourself with someone who only gave you a fraction of themselves back.”

In the dim lighting of the room, her eyes looked like black jewels. 

“Did it hurt to realize that someone you'd trusted was capable of something so... _cold_ , as you put it? Did you wish you'd had some warning about how it would feel, or a choice about how it happened, instead of being at someone else's mercy? Did it feel like a part of you died that night?”

Kara didn’t move. Lena's jaw clenched.

“Felt pretty painful and personal when I experienced it with my best friend,” she bit out.

A second passed. She thought Kara might fold, but then the Kryptonian licked her lips, and the space between them seemed to get even smaller.

“When you explain it that way, Lena,” the blonde murmured, “I wonder if _best friend_ is really the term you want to use.”

_God damn you, Kara._

“Don’t twist this," she snapped, her voice low with warning.

Again Kara didn't move. She stood there, obstinately looking at her.

Galled, Lena shouldered past the other woman and into the hall, resenting her own racing, simmering blood.

“Do you really believe I'm twisting it?” Kara asked. Lena could hear her footsteps following right behind. “Because the more I think about it, the less I believe I’m twisting anything.”

_Don't do this. Don't push me right now. I'm not ready._

“After all I’ve done, all I’ve told you, you can’t possibly be confused," she tried to fend the other woman off. "You can't be this delusional.” 

They reached the kitchen counter again, and the Kryptonian shifted closer. Lena rolled her eyes.

“I think I know why you’ve constructed it this way,” Kara went on. Her voice became quieter, more deliberate. “And I think there’s a reason you wanted to have sex where you couldn’t look me in the face and _really_ drive the knife in.”

Fear shot through Lena’s chest as she realized Kara was truly about to press forward and say it, that the words were imminent—cornering words, knowing words, relentless words she could not fight off indefinitely.

It outraged her.

“Yes, because when I look you in the face, what I see is _betrayal_ ,” she roared back, her hands curling into fists, “and then I relive every time I’ve needed or opened up to someone and was betrayed, and I can't even _think_. Don't pretend you have any _idea_ of what that's like or spin this as some fucking conspiracy to flatter yourself, Kara—it's just what I need to do to put it away!” 

The Kryptonian was undisturbed, her eyes thoughtful. “Put what away?"

“The question I've had my entire life!” Lena spat forcefully at the blonde, as if she were dense, as if it were her fault. _Don't you get it, Kara?_ “Why does this pattern keep repeating? What does that mean about me? Why am I so easily betrayed, and susceptible to betrayal? Why do I fall into the trap, what have I done to—”

“Wait,” Kara breathed, comprehension dawning on her face. 

Lena closed her mouth as panic and dread came riding on that single word, a word that told her she'd said too much, and seized her through the stomach. Too late, she realized she was somehow losing control of an exchange with Kara again.

“You don’t really think the betrayal is _my_ fault...” Kara whispered slowly, half-unsure, stock-still next to her. “You think it’s _yours_...”

Nausea rose in Lena's throat as Kara began to put the pieces together.

“Your anger…it’s not actually about me,” Kara pressed, “it's about you, isn’t it?”

“Why wouldn't it be?” Lena replied stiffly. Although her eyes remained defiant, her words were hoarse; they sounded caustic and helpless at the same time. “The circumstances and people involved in the betrayals have been different, but the common denominator remains the same.”

_Me._

_Something is wrong with me._

She watched the horrified bewilderment on Kara’s face. Nausea slid into fury, fury into numbness, and numbness back into nausea.

“Relationships with other people aren't like lab experiments,” the blonde sputtered next to her, “you can’t manipulate people’s actions or control the conditions around them. There are way too many variables for you to rationally conclude that somehow you're responsible for those betrayals!”

Lena shook her head. She felt as if a hand were wrapped around her throat, clutching little by little and squeezing out the air. Her nausea intensified.

“Maybe I am responsible for those betrayals,” she said, her hands beginning to tremble, “because there was someone I betrayed before anyone ever betrayed me, Kara.”

The blonde looked at her, uncomprehending. 

_Who?_

Lena swallowed down the bile in her throat. _Ignore it. Exploit her curiosity, use the deflection. Keep her away from the target._ Blinking, she shifted her gaze from Kara's and tried to focus.

“When I was child—before the Luthors adopted me—my mother drowned in a lake,” she whispered. Like her hands, her voice trembled, and pain inflected the lines of her face. “I stood there and watched it happen.” 

The Kryptonian’s eyes widened.

As she stared at the counter, Lena considered the irregular, mottled granite, aspiring to the level of polish applied atop the coarse stone. She closed her eyes and summoned the rest of her concentration to put into language something that had only ever existed as howling rage, blinding grief.

“I failed the one person who loved me unconditionally, who might have prevented the hell my life became,” she said, her face pale and still. “I failed her, and I can't help thinking that the betrayals and assassination attempts I've suffered are just...some kind of karmic retribution.” 

Kara was entirely aghast.

“You think you _deserve_ all this?”

The surface of Lena's skin grew raw and hot against the air. She'd never explained it quite like that to her herself; certainly not to anyone else. But Kara's question seemed like a logical deduction, and it echoed and echoed in her head, clamoring with the others she'd tried to shove down for so long. It kindled a small riot.

_Do I deserve this?_

_Can I ever be clean of this and whole again?_

_How could I have let her die?_

_Did she know I didn't save her?_

_Was her last thought that I—_

“I didn’t know your mother, and I don't know exactly what that loss did,” Kara admitted, “but I do know that witnessing her death doesn’t make you somehow responsible for it, or anything that’s happened afterward. You were just a kid.”

Despairing, Lena shook her head. “I was old enough to know what was happening.”

“That doesn’t mean you could have done anything to save her. Doesn’t mean you created this cycle. And it doesn’t mean things were fated to be this way.”

_But they might as well have been. They're already enmeshed with who I am. The roots of who I am._

 _They feed the wealth, intelligence, beauty, and philanthropy; they make it all possible. They're my center. My anchor._

_I don't exist without them._

Lena wanted to fire something back at her; the Kryptonian couldn't possibly understand this problem, this burden she hated yet could not let go of. But she was fighting too hard simply to keep her head above water, to navigate this treacherous conversation and her own repressed feelings about it—and to her dismay, the Kryptonian kept striking.

“I couldn’t understand why you said those things to me that night,” Kara whispered, frowning in realization. “About how it should've been someone else fucking me, or why you brought Mon-El into it. I thought you were trying to be cruel to me, but...”

Lena shifted to face the other woman, filled with a sense of foreboding and fear. Just how deeply did Kara see?

_And how deeply do I want to_ let _her see?_

Before Lena could stop her, Kara spoke.

“You've insulted Mon-El as if he wasn't worth my time, but it's not really about that," the blonde ventured, her words soft and slow. "He bothered you because he represents everything you aren't—wanted enough, deserving enough, good enough to be chosen by someone, instead of betrayed."

She looked faintly disturbed by the verbalization of it.

"When I came that night, you knew I was willing to risk losing Mon-El for you," the Kryptonian continued, swallowing. "I chose to be with you rather than anyone else you thought would be more deserving. And you had your story of righteous anger and revenge against me, you wanted to inflict harm for those reasons, but there was more behind it. I heard it that night, and now I understand. You think you're corrupting me with your brokenness. You want to focus on how fundamentally damaged you are, and how damaged that makes me, because it's much easier than facing than the truth. The truth that you're actually wanted by somebody. And wanted this much.”

_Wanted by someone who thinks you're still good, and that you deserve good things._

Lena could hardly breathe; it felt as if Kara had been using heat vision to perforate her lungs. She turned her face once more so that, regardless of everything Kara had already seen, she would at least not see the sheen developing in her eyes.

"I know who I am,” she insisted, mustering a last-ditch effort to make the Kryptonian understand. “I'm a Luthor. I play dirty when it suits me. I shot my own brother, I had Lillian arrested. I watched my mother drown because I was too—too fascinated by what was happening to think to stop it. This is who I am, Kara. I don't know what trust is. My life is fucked-up, and it fucked me up. I do my best to make up for it. But I think people should keep their distance.”

Kara shook her head. “You think you’re capable of so much harm...”

“I _know_ I’m capable of so much harm,” Lena corrected the Kryptonian, anger flashing in her voice. “And you know it too. You've already experienced it.”

A tense silence settled with that. All she could hear was the fluttering of the curtains near her broken balcony windows.

“Well, I never stopped believing that you're capable of transforming the things that hurt you, and being the person I know you are,” Kara said. "I don't think you need to carry around guilt and shame about your identity for the rest of your life."

Lena snorted. “You're just like your cousin. Too much of an idealist.”

“No," Kara's blonde hair swayed as she shook her head again, "that's just part of what loving people means. It’s not about being perfect and never harming anyone, or never having someone harm you. It's having the patience to help people learn and the humility to acknowledge you need to learn. That's uncomfortable because it requires trust, commitment, and faith—even when you know people harm each other all the time. You can keep score, focus on the hurt, and think it's a reflection of some intrinsic evil that you alone possess. But I've learned it's just part of being human. And I know that if we refuse to transform what hurts us, if we can’t learn to put things down and forgive ourselves and other people, it poisons us and everything in our lives. It puts us in a cage, and I won't be stuck there. No matter what you do.”

Lena tried to ignore the sensation in her stomach. She blinked a few times, at a loss as she grappled with the intensity, accuracy, yet sweeping ignorance of Kara's reply. She knew perfectly well how difficult love was; she lived that difficulty daily. She'd grown up with that difficulty. But the emotional whirlwind kicked up by Kara's words was so overwhelming that she could not express all it triggered; her eyes simply glittered with violence and discomfort.

The Kryptonian stood next to her, open, bearing it.

“I don't know if anyone has ever shown that kind of love to you,” she added, “and maybe it scares you to be offered it, but it's true. I don't believe the story you're telling about yourself. I want you and I've chosen you. I've always tried to choose you.”

 _I've always tried to choose you_ exploded in the room.

There was something so arrogant, so fundamentally wrong about it given the past, and something wrong about hearing it at this moment. The maelstrom in Lena's eyes froze over. She felt the shrapnel of _I've always tried to choose you_ finally pierce her, releasing a pain that had never found a place to go. Words came rushing out through the gashes at last. 

“Except you _didn’t_ choose me, Kara. You chose to hide who you were from me, and then you chose not to come back after you told me. You didn’t even _try_ to mend our friendship,” she cried at the blonde, an awful ache developing in her throat. “And when you did come back, even _that_ wasn’t your choice, it was only because of Red Kryptonite. Then you just...threatened me and said vulgar things!” 

The cracking of her voice became noticeable, like smoldering coal in her lungs, roasting her from the inside out.

“You didn’t choose me or want me, Kara, you just discarded me when things got hard and messy, like all the others. And now you have the nerve to stand here and pretend you know me, that you—that you _love_ me and have chosen me, as if you haven’t been away for _years_ —”

She choked on it.

“— _years_ with someone else,” she finished bitterly.

Stricken, Kara stepped back, her eyes darkening in anguish.

Lena watched her reaction with narrow breaths, terrified, furious, and perversely satisfied all at once. Her white dress shirt felt leaden as her chest rose against it, strangling her. She couldn't care, couldn't decide whether to regret what she'd just said or not. This conversation had long ago crossed the boundaries of acceptable, and now she had taken it off a cliff...thrown them both over a sheer drop.

She walked forward to leave, to try to escape—to flee her own apartment, Kara, and all her demons.

The Kryptonian moved to block her path.

“What did you just tell me?” Kara whispered.

Through the residual sting in her eyes, Lena could see the other woman's chest rising, falling, rising again, the cape bobbing with it. She shook her head and glanced away, trapped more by her own ambivalence than she was Kara.

“Are you telling me you wanted it to be you?" the Kryptonian whispered, her quiet and pained. "All those years?"

The questions instantly struck Lena as disingenuous; surely Kara could hear the uneven breathing and erratic heartbeat in her chest. Surely Kara knew. Maybe even _had_ known. Why would it be surprising? Why did this need to be spelled out? Wasn't the oblique admission humiliating enough?

She lifted her gaze. Her eyes were jagged and hard. 

“Stop blocking my way,” she replied, ignoring Kara's questions, “and please get out.”

Several moments passed as they stared at one another at close range. Lena waited, but the blonde didn't move.

“Get out, Kara,” she tried again, her tone low and threatening, “now, or so help me, I’ll get th—”

“You’ll what?”

Kara said it calmly. Her steady eyes penetrated Lena's bluff.

“You’ll hurt me again? Hurt yourself again?”

Lena flattened a hand on the granite countertop, trying to ground herself.

“I don't think so. I think you want to do this differently,” the blonde pressed her. “I saw it last night. I heard it when you jumped and called me by name.”

As Kara searched her face, Lena swallowed, feeling naked and vulnerable to the currents of electricity eddying in the air. The cold inertness of the kitchen counter beneath her hand could not protect her. Nothing seemed to protect her from Kara’s eyes. They waited across from her, a vast stretch of ocean in sunlight, inescapable.

Daring her to wade into the place she had always been too afraid to go.

The Kryptonian leaned even closer, almost touching her.

"You can do it differently right now," Kara murmured. "Just answer the question."

_Are you telling me you wanted it to be you?_

Lena felt the other woman's breath flurry across her lips, and it was the very last provocation she could take—the tipping point at which the difficulty of resisting Kara like this became greater than any other.

"For fuck's sake, Kara," she hissed. Her eyes bored holes into the blonde, angry as they were miserable. "Of _course_ I wanted it to be me!"

Her expression fractured. She no longer cared about the cost of what was going to happen; Kara had forced the question, and now she was going to hear the entire answer. She didn't even give the Kryptonian time to follow up.

“Why wouldn't I?" she snapped, louder as she let loose. "You know what I went through because of what Lex did! The slander and libel issues, the blacklisting, defamation, having people treat me like a bomb about to go off or a plague! You saw them! They treated me as if I were no different from my family, as if it didn't matter that I testified and was estranged from them, as if I had suffered nothing at all! And then I had to deal with the reporters, paparazzi, tabloids, everybody invading my privacy for months on end—harassing me at all hours for a comment or a photo they could spin and sell! People I knew sold me out! And I never asked for _any_ of that, Kara! I was just alone! Abandoned!"

_As usual._

She reloaded without taking her eyes from the blonde.

"So I left! I moved here to start fresh and prove my own innocence," she growled, her mouth taut. "And after all I went through—very publicly—I don't think you could _possibly_ be oblivious to the way it must have felt for me when someone who seemed open-minded came into my life. Someone who didn’t immediately treat me as a criminal or seem to want anything from me. Nor do I see how you could _possibly_ fail to imagine what it would feel like for me to meet a hero who could have chosen not to trust me, easily, but did anyway—a hero who risked her reputation by _protecting_ me!” 

_Kara Danvers and Supergirl._

Kara remained still, facing the torrent of rage.

“People don’t protect me!” Lena snarled. Her limbs had gone rigid. “I’ve spent a _lifetime_ knowing I’m broken, and I’ve learned how to live with that! But with you, around you, with Kara and with Supergirl—it was like having a key I didn't know existed, a key to some alternate reality where I wasn’t broken, where I was meant to be a _hero_. You made me feel like that. You made me think maybe there was still hope for me. That maybe I was worth believing in, maybe I could heal, or at least begin to try, because someone—” she swallowed tightly, “—someone actually cared about me.” 

The tears came in thin lines down her cheeks, and Kara swallowed too.

“I chose National City. I didn't expect people to trust me overnight, but I was hoping Supergirl would give me a chance. I needed her to,” she went on. Her voice was quiet but controlled. “And it felt like Supergirl had, and Kara had. The trust I placed in you felt justified, just _natural_ , even when there was tension. You never judged me as a person, Kara. You just wanted to know who I was. And I thought we were creating something new, something better than what your cousin and my brother ended up with. Wasn't there something romantic about that? About the idea of us teaming up? Why _wouldn't_ we just make sense together? Why wouldn't it be _obvious_ that I'd end up feeling more, that I'd fall in—fall for—”

“Lena—” 

“No," she said vehemently, "fuck that question. Of course I wanted it to be me. How dare you even ask, Kara.” 

“Lena, I didn’t—”

“I don't care,” Lena flung at her, cutting her off again. “Trusting you turned out to be a mistake. You lied to me. Worse, you just...gave up. Our friendship was an illusion, like every other good thing in my life, and it's my fault for losing sight of reality. For thinking we could be better than your cousin and my brother. I was a fool to ever forget that I have to be like this to survive—cold-blooded, alone, hiding my brokenness behind one accomplishment after another, relying only on myself to be safe, never feeling anything too deeply. Even if right now I’m—I’m—” 

_Even if right now I’m feeling too deeply._

She saw her own pain reflected in Kara’s face. 

“—even if right now I’m like this,” she fumed instead, refusing to wipe her eyes. “I'm just at my wits' end. This seemed so simple at the beginning. I just wanted you to realize that we will never be okay. You screwed this up, and I'll never truly let you off the hook. Whether I corrupted you or forced you out of my life again, I was going to make you see that this could not be okay. And I thought you were a _coward_ , I thought it'd be _easy_ …” 

As her words finally trailed off, Kara glanced down.

“But I survived the demands and kept coming back. And you discovered you could let me off the hook,” she murmured, "even if it was just a little bit."

“Exactly!” Lena strangled out. “I swore to punish you for what you did, I pushed you, tried to ensnare you, summoned every ounce of resolve I have to make sure this is painful—and I thought it _was_! But it's like we've been engaged in emotional judo, because you're still here, Kara! And I don't know how else to hurt you, I don't even know how to justify myself anymore, and to top it off, after _all_ that work and _all_ this time, all this anger, I—I—God _damn_ it—” 

She stared at Kara in a sort of powerless frustration, her eyes full of tears, unable to hold it in.

“God _damn_ it,” she whispered again, "I still want it to be me.”

Like darts meeting a target, the words sank deeply and lodged between the two women; their razor fins stuck out against the air. Lena stood in front of the Kryptonian, breathing with difficulty, emotionally unbalanced, nearly touching yet impossibly far away. She was afraid Kara would reach for her and embrace her. Break her.

But Kara remained where she was.

"It is you," the blonde said softly. "Don't you know I feel the same way?"

Lena shook her head, her tears glinting in the kitchen light.

"How can you?" she whispered.

The Kryptonian gave her a look that spoke volumes.

"I've done nothing but express anger at you. I've fought you every time you want to talk," Lena protested. "I've—I've hurt you."

"You did," Kara admitted mildly, nodding. "But are you still trying to hurt me? Or are we here because you've made different choices?"

Lena tilted her head. "You know it's not that simple."

"It's very simple if you stop focusing on why you don't deserve this," the blonde replied, a small smile on her lips. "I'm not going to affirm that story, Lena. I'm here because I want to be, and I'm trying to show you I'm not leaving again. I'm giving you the green light."

Anxiety and incredulity clashed in Lena's expression. "But I haven't even apologized, Kara!"

That particular objection sent a flicker across Kara's face. Her eyes searched Lena's for a moment, uncertain.

"Do you want to apologize to me?"

She said it neutrally, but Lena immediately understood why she had taken a second to ask the question: it triggered the memory of Kara's apology that night in her office.

Inhaling, she tried to shake those images and use her irritation at Kara's insight to summon a response, a jab, an obstacle. But she found that she couldn't. She could only stand there, thinking about how odd it was, how unexpected—but not unpleasant—it was, knowing that this time Kara had invited it, intentionally or not, and brought them full-circle.

Whether the invitation was intentional or not, the effect on Lena was the same.

"Yes," she finally answered, letting Kara hear the desire in her voice. "I think I need to apologize to you."

At the look in her eye, Kara stepped backward. 

“I just wanted to talk, I didn’t mean to imply I wanted something el—”

Lena stepped forward and lifted a hand to the side of Kara’s jaw, her fingers landing gently on the other woman’s skin.

“You didn't imply it,” she murmured. “I did."

The Kryptonian froze, gauging her clarity, her surety. 

Lena continued to hold Kara's gaze as skin moved under her palm. An inhale went by, then an exhale, a series of shocks racing through her fingers, arm, and chest. Through a still-glassy sheen, she studied the lips across from hers, aware of the longing and fear in her body.

She leaned in—slowly, slowly, controlled, so that the presence of Kara’s body could only be felt by inches, in fractions of warmth—until their breaths met in the same space. Her fingertips trembled on Kara’s jaw. 

“I don't want to talk anymore,” she whispered. "I want it to be me."

Kara’s eyes were fierce. 

“Then let it be you. I can't be the hero now. You have to be." 

An image of Supergirl arguing passionately in her office, speaking things no one had ever spoken to her, passed through Lena's mind. The challenge now was the same as then. This time, though, she met it honestly and head-on.

She closed the remaining space in one smooth motion, kissing the Kryptonian.

When she felt the other woman respond, the last vestiges of conflict and malice in her faded. For the first few moments she was only aware of instinct, desire, beauty. Relief. With her free hand she followed the curvature of the Kryptonian's ribs and scaled her back. Her fingers moved carefully along the suit, slipping under Kara's cape. No part of her was animated by the violence she'd inflicted before.

Then Kara returned her touch, and the hesitation and ambivalence that filled their embrace flooded Lena.

_I did this._

Guilt stung her as they both paused, caught. She opened her eyes to try to read Kara, sensing a similar feeling, more like regret, in Kara's body—in the ache of her hands, in the halting of her lips—but the Kryptonian was staring back at her as well. And the look in her eyes imparted hunger, not regret.

This dissonance between desire and reality rankled Lena, seeking expression, some resolution.

So she pulled at Kara with her palms...and simultaneously bit the Kryptonian’s lip. 

Stuck between her teeth, Kara felt a small grin at the corners of her own mouth while they continued to stare at one another. Finally she countered, and an energetic back and forth with their jaws ensued. Kara began pressing her backward through the kitchen. Lena obliged. She stepped back, back again, as her hand rose and gripped the nape of Kara’s neck, her fingers starting to roughen with grief, with pain. She forced her tongue further into Kara’s mouth.

The Kryptonian answered by reaching around and pulling her blouse loose. She slid her hands beneath it, slid her fingers slowly up Lena's back. The path they traced was forgotten and neglected, overgrown with a loneliness that sprawled across Lena's skin, soulful, tormented, trapping her in an endless labyrinth—the kind of loneliness only a Luthor would know.

And Lena could feel the irony burning in it, that the very woman who had betrayed her and ushered in that overgrowth was here now, that those hands were on her, cutting it away. It was the very last thing she wanted and everything she wanted; who else but Kara could be here, who else but Kara could find a way, who else but Kara could understand the pain of being so lost, imprisoned, adrift...

Still it burned, and still Kara diligently soothed that burn, coaxing the first low, satisfied moan from her. 

Soon Lena struggled to check herself; her fingers wandered and wrapped themselves around the Kryptonian’s belt, her other hand still clinging to Kara’s neck. The increasing carelessness of their lips had given rise to loud, uneven breathing in the kitchen. It echoed around Lena's ears like an approaching avalanche. Her knuckles ground into Kara’s stomach, against the textured material of the suit, and she felt the Kryptonian's hands slide down to her hips. 

There was a faint authority in Kara’s grip that caused Lena to slow mid-kiss. Her body simply reacted to it—to the eroticism of being touched like this, both by the woman she had once called a friend and the super-powered, world-saving alien countless people depended on. But her mind began to stumble over the idea.

_Who would’ve believed it? A Luthor and a Super, working together..._

Of course she'd known what Kryptonian heritage should mean for a Luthor. Of course she'd known that working together in any capacity with Supergirl would be dangerous. With her tongue in the other woman’s mouth, _this_ type of working together was unquestionably so. _This_ was a front-page story waiting to be found out, a scandal, yet another target added to her back.

But still her lips lingered at Kara's—because, once again, some part of her was simply too fascinated by what was happening...to stop. 

Her fingers found the Kryptonian’s wrist; she pulled Kara's hand along her own body, slipping it down and back until it was wrapped around her ass, defying Luthor karma. 

Kara stiffened and inhaled against her. The distraction Lena saw on her face didn't inspire vengefulness anymore, but interest.

"Follow me," she whispered.

She withdrew and turned, anticipation capering along her skin. 

Kara followed without a word.

As she led the Kryptonian through the open hall and to her doorway, she wondered if Kara noticed the sleekness of her furniture, the modern art on her walls, the subtle, crisp scent of her apartment, the faint urban din rising through her broken windows—or if she was distracting enough, important enough, to have earned all of Kara’s attention.

When she entered the bedroom and turned around again, flicking the lights, she was answered. Kara’s eyes hadn't left her. 

The blonde stood in the doorframe, the colors of her suit prominent against the neutral hue of the walls.

“You're sure?” she asked quietly.

An old, devious smirk graced Lena's lips. "I'm very sure."

They stood engaged in a wordless standoff. Neither broke eye contact. Kara shifted and licked her lips.

"You've dealt with a lot tonight, and I know I've pushed you, so I don't want t—"

"Kara," Lena interrupted, approaching her slowly, "I'm consenting. I want you in my bedroom."

"Why?" the Kryptonian asked. Desire flickered in her eyes. "Why do you want this?"

_Where are you right now?_

Lena read the unspoken question in the other woman's face. Her chin rose, her gaze square on Kara's.

"For the same reason you do," she answered. "Don't tell me you've never wanted to find out what this would be like."

_What we would be like._

Kara was silent. Lena watched the dark clouds in her eyes coalesce, their accumulated charge finding the charge in her own, aligning for a lightning strike. She let go of a tight breath in her chest.

"I want you to help me," she whispered. "Help me fix this. This should have happened a long time ago."

Never had something so weak felt so good to say.

Kara came forward, and Lena let her. She was lifted from the ground without ado, straddling the Kryptonian easily, readily, her hands thick in blonde hair, their lips tangling again. Kara’s fingers pressed into her ass and thighs. They sent lines of heat up her spine as she was carried backward. In a moment she was lowered to the edge of the bed, and Kara stepped back, swiftly removing her utility belt and cape in one go. They landed across the room.

The Kryptonian bent down to remove her armored shoes, and without thinking, Lena was sliding off the bed, onto her knees, to assist—heels be damned.

As she dropped down and they came nearly face-to-face, Kara recoiled in surprise. The moment quickly spiraled into something unexpected, almost vulnerable, as they looked at each other. 

"What?" Lena croaked. She glanced away and briskly shifted to handle the Kryptonian’s foot. "I'm helping."

Kara slowly stood.

"I...wasn't sure you'd want to," she replied, the softness in her voice loud. "I thought I'd be undressing myself again."

Lena cleared her throat, uncomfortable, and focused on the shoe instead of giving her a reply.

Her fingers slipped around the durable armored covering and pulled a little. She was startled when the entire ensemble flexed in her hands without resistance and slipped off; the shoe had felt snug to Kara's foot. Distracted, she held onto it for a second, then turned it over a few times, marveling at how thin and light the shoe was. Kara snorted.

Lena looked up to find a knowing twinkle in the Kryptonian’s eye.

“These are impressive,” Lena insisted defensively. “I mean, I could have designed something similar...but whoever made them was good.”

She didn't mean for it to sound the way it did.

Kara stared at her, stared like she wanted to say something, or was remembering something, but she didn't offer the name of the person who had taken her place, and Lena didn't ask. She didn't want to know.

Her eyes fell back to her task. Setting the shoe down, she hastily wrapped her hands around Kara’s half-proffered other foot, tugging. That shoe came off with similar ease. She gathered both shoes in her palms, taking her time aligning them before extending them up to Kara—careful not to say anything else, and to keep her gaze on her hands.

She felt her own heart beating as Kara reached down, taking the shoes and casting them over to where her cape and belt were strewn. They tumbled lightly on the floor.

Lena almost flinched when Kara's fingers settled under her chin. Their caress was light, just enough to encourage her jaw upward and bring her eyes back. 

Suddenly it was difficult to avoid the position she was in.

_Kneeling at the foot of a god._

A tingling went through her palms. Kara released her chin.

“I could use the auto-release on my suit to get out of it,” she murmured, her eyes warm, “but I’d rather let you take it off manually. If you still want to help.”

Lena inhaled deeply as she continued to look up at the other woman.

"I do."

A small smile formed on Kara's lips. “It’s locked down my back,” she supplied, turning around, “you just have to feel for the release points.”

Lena swallowed and stood again. Her hands rose, her fingers sifting through tangled ringlets of blonde hair. Soon she caught sight of a nick in Kara’s suit fabric at the neck. Her fingertips moved around it until she felt an almost imperceptible fastener—then they descended with care to find the series down Kara's back. Returning to the Kryptonian's neck, she pushed experimentally at the topmost one. 

It came apart with a clean _snick_.

_I always wondered…_

She smirked as she started to clip the other woman out. 

The edges of the suit peeled away when she'd gotten about halfway down, and she tried not to think too hard about what this meant, what she was doing, or the feeling of embers in her fingertips. Finally she reached the last fastener at small of Kara's back. A sizable slice of the blonde's skin was already exposed.

With an intent breath, Lena slid her hand under the compression material, up across yielding skin, and smoothly slipped the garment from the Kryptonian’s right shoulder.

She didn't let herself linger on the armor embedded in the material or on Kara’s body. But when Kara pulled her own arm from the suit, further exposing the musculature along her back, Lena didn't have much choice. Kara's skin filled her vision, appearing soft under the muted lighting of the bedroom; sinewy contours blended over her body and disappeared seamlessly. There was none of the sharpness, tension, and need Lena remembered from the night in the office.

Blinking that memory away, she pried the fabric from the Kryptonian’s other shoulder.

Kara freed her arm and then turned to face Lena. The suit stretched across her chest, its half-removed configuration creating cleavage, the arms hanging limply to Kara's sides. Her blonde hair fell on bare shoulders. Strands of it sank all the way down to the beginning of the suit, where they adorned the upper area of her breasts.

With her eyes she invited Lena to strip her.

Lena took another breath in the silence. She had seen Kara the way she was about to, but for the first time, she knew the Kryptonian would be able to see her reaction—her honest reaction. The reaction that no longer needed to be concealed.

_The reaction that’s been concealed since the day I realized "friendship" didn't quite describe the relationship I wanted to have with Kara._

She raised her hands once more, slowly. Her lips parted as she touched the suit, collecting its wrinkled excess into her hands, once more admiring the pliability of the embedded armor. She felt the skin of her knuckles graze lightly against Kara's skin. The emblem sitting on the blonde's chest stared at her, its colors fierce, as if guarding the body beneath. Kara's breaths carried her hands up and down for a moment.

The Kryptonian didn't say anything, waiting, watching her.

She met Kara's eyes, then began to drag the suit downward.

Lena found nothing else underneath, and it felt odd, coarse, as the truth started to unravel across her face—like that truth had rusted from disuse, like she couldn't let it unfold too quickly, at risk of cracking it into brittle pieces. She felt the changes in her happen little by little, matching the pace of her fingers: first in her eyes, then her breathing, traveling through the lines of her posture…until at last the metamorphosis reached inward, reached her heart. 

As the suit slid down Kara's ribs, she knelt again. Her knees settled on the floor in one smooth motion. She reached up and regathered the suit in her fingers, which had come to rest in haphazard folds around the other woman's hips. Her eyes traveled upward along Kara's skin.“May I?”

It only seemed appropriate to ask.

Kara nodded. “You'll have to tug some more,” she whispered. “The armor…”

Lena pulled carefully, and heard the other woman’s breaths become more shallow as the material slipped away. Her own lips burned, so close to Kara’s thighs, and a slight quiver went through her fingers. The Kryptonian reached out to cradle her cheek and jaw. 

Her hand felt as gentle as it did possessive, and Lena swallowed.

The suit fell. After a moment Kara half-stepped, allowing the garment to be come off completely. Her palm dropped away from Lena’s cheek.

Piling the material into her hands, Lena finally looked up. The Kryptonian stood with certainty, with power, naked, her hand extended and open. Lena automatically placed the suit in the blonde’s palm. As Kara stared down at her, slowly closing her fingers, Lena felt the quivering in her hands travel closer to her chest. She studied Kara with wide eyes, paralyzed. 

Kara threw the suit aside and gave her a small smile. “What?”

Lena hesitated.

“I didn't think about Kara Danvers as a Kryptonian,” she admitted, her knees still pressed to the floor, “not—not sexually, not…seriously. In detail.” 

There was a pause as Kara tried to process her underlying meaning. 

“What about...last time?”

“Last time was different,” Lena said. “The power dynamic has…shifted.” 

Above her, Kara’s eyes gentled.

“I’m not afraid,” Lena clarified quickly, “I’ve thought about Kara Danvers...and about Supergirl, just....”

_Not both._

Surprise flashed across the Kryptonian’s face.

“Wait, you thought about—are you saying—”

_Are you saying you’ve fantasized about us?_

Lena kept her eyes on Kara, her reply written in them.

Kara swallowed. 

“Right. So this isn't...how you saw this going," she summarized.

"Not quite."

"Well, then what—" Kara's demeanor became more frank, "— _did_ you imagine?"

The appetite between Lena’s thighs spread, and she tilted her head at the Kryptonian.

"Are you asking me to describe my sexual fantasies, Ms. Danvers?"

Only a hint of fluster came through in Kara's smile. "Maybe. Maybe it would help to reclaim what you were familiar with."

Her seriousness had a sobering effect, and Lena glanced away for a moment. She wanted to play this game. But doing this couldn't quite be a game between them, not the way things were, with their baggage. Still...maybe dealing with the baggage didn't have to only be painful all the time.

She stood.

"Alright," she said quietly, evenly. Her eyes held Kara's. “I'll tell you. I thought it would happen in my office.”

She felt the sting of anger, giving her arousal a bittersweet flavor, as she dredged up this particular artifact of their friendship.

“I pictured us chatting some night, like usual, de-stressing from the day. Staring at each other, some loaded silences...” 

Kara’s shoulders moved with her breaths. Lena didn't touch her.

“...and although you seemed aware of it too, you'd be too respectful, too polite to say anything. Even when I let the silence drag on, you'd just mention that you better be getting back for the night, and stand up to leave. So I’d have to cut the bullshit and say it," she continued, her eyes remembering, " _Kara, you’ve been staring all night. If you want to touch me, you're more than welcome to. There's no one else here._ "

The silence grew taut.

"I imagined you'd blush. Then fiddle nervously with your glasses, stammer some excuse for why we shouldn’t, some chivalrous protest…” 

Sadness had split through her voice, and Kara heard it; she had frozen.

“Which I would have expected, so I'd just get closer as you babbled on. And finally I'd tell you, _Whatever this is doesn't need to become a problem, Kara,_ " Lena said. She tried to smile at her own foolishness, at her belief in the fiction of the whole thing, but it didn't entirely come across. "Or sometimes I'd just look at you until you stopped talking, and then invite you to unbutton the top of my shirt. I thought your hands would tremble, that you might struggle. Of course, now I…”

She trailed off, rewriting it in her mind. “Now I know you could just rip my shirt apart.”

Kara’s eyes narrowed with pain as the words sunk in.

“I know this feels different,” the Kryptonian managed. Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “I know _I_ feel different. But that shy, polite helplessness wasn't all an act. Neither was my vulnerability with you.” 

She moved closer, almost touching, and lifted her hands so that her fingers rested on Lena's shirt, near her hips.

“You know what my helplessness looks like,” Kara implored her. “You drew it out of me the moment we met, and again the moment I came back into your office. The biggest difference between the Kara you knew then and the Kara you know now isn't that the superhero and the reporter are the same person. It's that the Kara you know now looked at this connection and that helplessness around you and actively took responsibility for what she wanted. She did something about it."

A shiver spiraled down Lena’s body. She recognized the earnestness in Kara’s gaze, she knew that look—and felt the warmth in her own body that arose in response to it.

“Maybe the fantasy just needs a little adjusting, then,” she murmured.

"We're keeping the part where I unbutton your shirt," Kara quickly assured her, already reaching for the bottom button. Her eyes sparkled as it came apart. "And do I get to hear how you imagined Supergirl? Or were those like the kinky sexual adventure fantasies with a superhero?"

Despite the situation, Lena felt herself smile.

"I think I'll plead the fifth."

“I knew it..."

"I didn't say yes."

"You didn't say no," Kara grinned back. She looked down as she undid another few buttons, briefly reflecting, then up again. "I get it. Actually, I'm...more offended that you didn't think Kara would initiate.”

The comment provoked a series of images in Lena’s mind—forgotten daydreams that surprised her. They lured her eyes down to the Kryptonian's lips again, her tell as obvious as it had been the night before.

Kara read her flawlessly.

“You did."

Lena hated the softness in her voice.

"Maybe."

"What was it like?”

As Kara's hands worked near the top of her shirt, Lena inhaled, her mind elsewhere, no longer aware of the buttons.

_Unexpected._

“Was it gentle? Or was I...rougher than you anticipated?” Kara continued, the light prurience in her smile balanced with care. “Did you think I'd do it in your office, or when we were out somewhere?”

The Kryptonian was leaning in and pulling the shirt from her shoulders. It slid down her arms, cool air wrapping around her skin; Lena made no move to stop her or answer.

“Had you been drinking," she heard Kara whisper, "or did you want to remember every detail?”

Her heart hammered harder, louder, as Kara moved back. The shirt hit the floor, and its ruffling finally jolted her. She felt the sharpness return to her eyes as Kara pressed her.

"Was it like this? Dead silence?"

"Our silences were never dead," Lena replied quietly.

She started to slip out of her heels.

"You're right," Kara said. "They weren't."

Lena reached her arms up and back, between her own shoulders. "I imagined that it was your suggestion we come back here."

"Here?"

Her bra fell forward and slid down her arms. It landed on the floor.

"Here. And that you wouldn't waste time once I shut the door."

She felt a prickle of irritation when Kara maintained eye contact. The blonde's fingers reached for the fastener on her pants.

"Sounds like it was rough."

Lena inhaled as Kara unzipped her. "It was."

Kara pulled gently at the pants until they fell to Lena's ankles.

"You like it when I'm not quite in control," Kara whispered.

Lena kept her eyes on Kara and stepped, kicking indiscriminately at the ensemble of heels, pants, and bra, sending it across the floor.

Then she stood, expectant even in a single piece of lingerie.

"Whatever gave you that idea, Kara?"

She reached up to loosen her hair, threading her fingers through the strands, allowing the rich, dark shock to rake her shoulders. Its caresses caused a reaction further down as Kara looked on. Without hesitating, Lena curled her fingers around the last article of clothing on her body, easing it down until she was naked.

Nothing was said; the understanding between them was nonverbal. Kara's gaze fell.

In the silence, with her back still to the bed, Lena recalled her own inability to entice Kara...and just how long it had been since she’d invited anyone into her bedroom. It made the air burn, made her feel impatient and anxious under the blonde’s gaze. They’d danced around enough. Hadn’t she shown all her cards? What else was Kara waiting for?

_The sincerity of her attention is unnerving._

Lena cleared her throat and lifted her chin, a dare. 

“I appreciate this,” she murmured, “but it’s unnecessary.”

Kara stepped forward. “Is it?”

“We’re adults. We both know I want you to fuck me.”

She felt Kara’s hand at her jaw, soft, lingering. 

“You want more than that.” 

Lena tried to argue—not against the words, exactly, but against the intimacy Kara was creating—yet her cheek seemed trapped in Kara’s hand. 

“You want me to choose you,” the Kryptonian whispered. “You want me to love you.”

Kara pushed with her other hand.

Lena’s back landed on the covers, and she found herself underneath Kara. Dazed, she retreated, trying to focus on the faint lines of muscle and brush of blonde locks on her skin instead of the words Kara had uttered. She reached up and attempted to pull Kara in—but the other woman resisted her kiss, catching her by the wrists and prying her hands away. Lena struggled against her. 

Kara merely leaned forward and held her hands back to the bed. 

In the face of such futility, Lena stilled, subjecting herself to the intensity of Kara’s eyes. Her own wouldn’t behave; they trailed across Kara’s breasts, defined shoulders, throat, jaw...even as doubt swirled in her stomach. 

“Trust me,” Kara murmured.

Lena’s chest rose and fell. She stared up at the other woman, a miserable pleasure coursing in her as she let the Kryptonian hold her down. 

_Help me_.

As Kara leaned down to kiss her neck, Lena closed her eyes. She felt breath, fingertips, a nipple grazing her skin, then Kara’s tongue on her throat. It traced an assertive path upward. Her hands and wrists flexed, contorting in the other woman’s grip. 

Then the Kryptonian bit down.

The change in Lena's expression was noticeable; she inhaled sharply, unintentionally, at the pain. It both wounded her pride and satisfied her, resonated with the part of her that could not forget the past. To even the score, she quickly tried to shift one leg up Kara’s inner thigh and distract her. But Kara only shifted to compensate, then bit harder along her neck, then harder again. Finally Lena let out a soft moan and twisted more fiercely against the Kryptonian's hands. 

Kara grinned into her. "A little retaliation seems fair.” 

Lena swallowed and wet her lips, uncomfortably aroused. 

“Only a little, Kara?”

In answer, the Kryptonian’s tongue returned to exploring the expanse of her throat again, suggestive, and Lena closed her eyes in relish. She shivered as the blonde licked, her mind preoccupied with the wet trail on her neck and the drifting of Kara’s breasts across her skin. 

Kara eventually loosened one hand. Her fingers traced Lena’s raised forearms, biceps, shoulder, meandering. She paused and leaned back as her fingertips met breast. 

The tension in Lena’s body hardened, and she looked up at Kara with a challenge.

Obliging, the Kryptonian’s palm curved around her breast, and every moment Lena had imagined Kara’s hands like this—accidental or on purpose, with permission or not—was set aside by reality. 

Kara’s mouth followed. Lena felt her kiss lightly, slowly, her lips moving around. She reached for the Kryptonian’s back and spread her fingers, digging into muscle and bone as Kara began to suck. When it became pulling, Lena half-whimpered under her. She tried to hold still, but one hand went to Kara’s head, fingers catching in her blonde mane, soliciting more. 

_All these years…_

The Kryptonian adjusted and placed one hand on Lena's hip, the smooth grooves of her back moving under Lena's palm. 

Lena pressed herself into Kara's thigh, wanton, aware of what the other woman would feel there.

_…you never knew this._

Kara’s eyes flickered up to hers. Her hand tightened. She drifted to Lena's other breast and gave it equal attention—licking once, then twice, harder, before pulling at her nipple with her lips and tongue. Lena’s fingers fell from the tresses of blonde hair. She reached them above her head once more and offered herself with the arch of her body. As she let Kara continue to bite lightly, still teasing, she noticed the blonde's hand was still stuck at her hip. The touch incited distraction, craving, and the longer this foreplay went on, the more intentional it seemed. Lena found mortifying words arising in her head— _please_ and _just_ and _fuck me_ —and they fought to be whispered, to be begged, to escape to the woman above her.

Just before she couldn't stand it any longer, Kara’s hand sank lower, and her touch became tentative. Lena tensed in anticipation. But the Kryptonian reversed course; her palm ascended as she pulled away. It slid over her stomach, then ribs, breast, collarbone, and neck before coming to rest at her cheek. 

Lena’s throat tightened as Kara held her at her jaw. The Kryptonian’s gaze imparted something that could not be spoken, and imparted it with a certainty that did not need to be. 

Fear blossomed in Lena’s eyes. She waited for the painful reminders to set in, waited to be pierced again by the splintered pieces that came from each time she had been looked at like this, vulnerable like this, and then stabbed in the back. But Kara's gaze did not feel like the slice of a knife or an arrow. There was no sharpness or sting when she returned it, only some quiet, hesitant aching. 

This time it wasn't so much a nostalgic aching for the past, or the smoldering ache of lies and gullibility. It was more like the ache of shame. And like the ache of...of trying to embrace this. 

_This healing._

Her lips parted in surprise as she blinked up at Kara. 

“I’m sorry this didn’t happen differently,” the Kryptonian whispered at last, “but I’m not sorry it’s happening.”

The words unsettled Lena. On instinct, she tried to deny their resonance with her—a resonance that felt foreign and unfamiliar after being so long at odds with the blonde. But what Kara said was true, even if it pained Lena to admit it.

_I'm not sorry either._

She considered for a moment and then carefully pushed herself up off the bed. Her gaze steadied on Kara, clear.

“Good,” she murmured. "We're finally on the same page."

She searched the Kryptonian's eyes and the calm lines of her face, then leaned in. Her kiss was tender, lingering, imparting an apology of her own. The fear in her chest flared brightly as she realized the gentleness of her own lips and the weakness of admitting her regret.

But the Kryptonian seemed to accept it: she cradled Lena with one arm and lowered her to the sheets, where their kiss quickly deepened and roughened again. The energy between them held Lena there, despite her desire to escape and avoid this pain. Kara’s tongue and hands and even her words seemed like anchors. 

_And I’ll let you. I'll let you anchor me. Show me that I can feel that way._

She had to break from Kara's lips to breathe. Her head fell back against the bed and she closed her eyes as everything converged and narrowed on this moment. Kara whispered to her, the Kryptonian’s lips moving at her ear while strands of blonde hair sprawled over her skin. 

“How do you w—”

Lena dropped one hand and placed it atop Kara’s, pulling them both from her own hip. 

“Like this,” she murmured.

Kara drew back to adjust as Lena slowly guided their fingers lower. Kara’s breath changed on her skin, and Lena’s caught as she felt the Kryptonian touch her. She opened her eyes, looking into the blue ones above. Kara looked back. This was something final, something sweeping. Lena began to move and Kara began to harmonize. They watched each other, their faces understated and careful, as if waiting for the other to betray an open expression of the truth.

It was a game Lena had always enjoyed playing with Kara.

Soon she urged the Kryptonian harder, hard enough that her own expression broke, changing into the beautiful, silent tension of pleasure. A familiar energy and power vibrated through her. It felt like the first time she had ever said the words _a Super and a Luthor_ ; it provoked the same burst of warmth, inspiration, and the sharpness of risky possibility in her chest. Her free hand instinctively reached for Kara, taking hold of the blonde with surety. With the other she pressed Kara’s fingers inward.

In the quiet of the bedroom, her exhale was audible and appreciative. 

Shadows spilled across Kara’s face like ink. The dark luster in her eyes said several things at once; most clearly that she wanted to take over now. Lena let go of her hand. 

The Kryptonian began immediately, and Lena closed her eyes, gripping Kara with both hands. Her awareness tapered to the warmth of the other woman’s skin, the pressure of Kara’s fingers, and the sound of her own breathing, which became a moan when Kara moved deeper and with more force. She could hear wetness—they both could—above the sound of her panting. She pressed her hips more intently against Kara.

_Harder._

Kara obeyed, and was rewarded with a louder moan. She started to lick at Lena’s breast again. Bursts of tension erupted throughout Lena’s body with the flicking of her tongue, intensifying the spiral. Her shoulders dug into the bed as she spread her legs more and more fully. 

“Please,” she gasped in vain, “please, Kara, I—”

Kara shifted to press her lips to Lena’s neck and lick there. Though the other woman’s body trembled and flexed, Kara held close, able to taste her skin.

“Then let go,” she whispered.

Lena didn't seem satisfied. “I just want...I want to—”

The Kryptonian almost smiled.

_Trust me. I’ll give you what you want._

Lena was already reaching for her, aware she had only seconds left, and all she wanted was…was…

But her words disintegrated; the world faded to Kara’s fingers. Others might describe the moment as a singular thing, but it was not. It was plural, infinitely plural, and it stretched out as Lena clung desperately to the woman on top of her, her body simultaneously fierce and helpless. Her breaths were interrupted by shivers of pleasure, and every part of her body weakened and quivered. Her rescue was, as always, in Kara’s arms. 

For several seconds she was just there on the bed, chest heaving, eyes closed, while Kara gently slowed and laid at her side. 

Then, at some point, she recognized peace.

Relief.

She was unfamiliar with it, and unfamiliar with how to express it. Her thoughts seemed to exist somewhere far away, irrelevant, flimsy, too limited to figure out what to do. 

Lena was surprised when she felt kisses at her neck and jaw, and the press of a cheek. It seemed surreal. And she was just as surprised when she turned, very naturally, toward Kara in response.

It was still too fragile to say anything—only safe enough to gaze, to witness the woman breathing beside her, looking back at her.

_She’s breathtaking._

The thought crossed her mind like a comet. She couldn’t even feel upset about it; she had just expended any energy left in her body, and she was too immersed in the clear blue of Kara’s eyes, too grounded in the closeness of their bodies and the effortlessness of laying here in the silence to care. 

She realized she felt content. 

And she also realized there were many things in the air that she feared, and many things in herself she could not yet say.

“You’re good,” she finally managed to whisper, a light smile on her lips.

Kara smiled back. She looked faintly relieved—but whether that was because Lena’s first words were positive, or because she had doubted her own ability, or something else, Lena did not know. 

On instinct, her fingers reached for the Kryptonian’s neck. And then, tentatively, her cheek. 

It was a mistake. 

She’d forgotten how foreign it was to touch Kara this way, and she was not prepared for the feeling it evoked, nor the simple and clear reaction she saw in Kara’s face. It was impossible to mistake the other woman’s feelings. And now, caught without any armor herself, Lena felt those feelings penetrate. 

To her embarrassment, she felt a sting developing in her eyes and chest. She swallowed hard, blinking under Kara's gaze.

Kara said nothing as she watched the other woman struggle with the emotional repercussions of what was happening. 

“Fuck,” Lena swore quietly, her brows creasing with effort. She looked away. 

“Lena...” Kara whispered.

But Lena let her hand fall and turned from the Kryptonian, rolling over so that her back faced the blonde. Her throat burned with feeling, and that feeling shattered her composure. She curled into herself as a few tears fell from her eyes. They carved hot lines on her cheek, blazing a path for more to follow. 

She’d been so certain she’d buried all of this during the years Kara had been absent. And now, with this, with what all of this seemed to mean...she only felt foolish.

“Lena,” Kara said again.

Lena closed her eyes and allowed her breaths to be softly broken as she cried. 

The blonde slid closer. She slipped her arm around Lena’s waist, gentle. Her fingers remained soft on the other woman’s skin as she waited in the silence.

She didn't have to wait very long.

“Every day,” the brunette murmured, her voice cracking through the tears. "Every day, it hurt..."

_Every day you were gone._

She tasted the salt on her own lips as memories of pain and happiness mingled together in her mind, indistinguishable. The Kryptonian didn’t move.

“I never wanted you to come back,” Lena swallowed, “...but I would have done anything to get you back.”

Kara pressed her nose to a torrent of dark hair. “Lena, I’m sorry.”

“No,” Lena swiped delicately at her eyes, “you deserve an apology, not me.”

“Whether you deserve it or not, I’m offering it.”

Lena felt more tears on the verge of falling as Kara continued to hold her. It was the effect of the Kryptonian’s skin, the arm wrapped around her, the warmth and ease of their bodies on her bed…

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she said hoarsely.

Kara didn’t respond right away. When she did, her question was also faint.

“...What’s happening?”

Lena squeezed her eyes shut. “I'm letting myself do this,” she whispered, "after I swore I wouldn’t do it again…”

“You mean trusting me,” Kara murmured.

A tremble ran through Lena's body. At last she turned to face the blonde, looking at Kara through tear-stricken eyes, as if baffled.

“Yes. And it's painful, but it doesn't feel bad.”

Kara didn’t seem surprised; she glanced down at her own hand, resting lightly against the other woman’s ribs. “Well, we’re…completing something, aren’t we?”

Lena nodded, then inhaled deeply. “I was thinking of the pain of repairing or healing something...”

“Like reconciling,” Kara supplied. "I feel that pain too."

“And I'm...I think I’m grieving.”

Kara met her gaze evenly, with courage in her eye. “I know. But I think we’re building something, too.”

Still she waited for Lena to disagree with something, to tell her their ideas about what this was were mismatched, to make a comment that would trip them up and send them right back into a familiar cycle.

But the silence of liminal space stretched on until it was almost uncomfortable. Finally Lena allowed herself to respond.

“I hope we are.”

The Kryptonian couldn’t help smiling at that. 

“Me too. And I know this doesn't mean everything is...finished,” Kara pointed out quietly. “I know this moment doesn’t magically erase everything that’s happened. There are still things I need to work out, and there are things you need to work out, and things we need to start working out together…”

“Yes,” Lena murmured. “But let's just...appreciate how hard this was. And is going to be. One thing at a time.”

Kara gave her a cheeky grin. “Oh, I can do that. I know how hard it was, and I've learned a lot about patience.”

Her smile was so pure, so disarming. Lena risked the words before she could think better of them. 

“Then you've learned a lot about love."

Kara sobered, though her eyes retained their glow, and she directed her words carefully but surely. 

“I think you've known for a while that I love you.”

With some hesitation, Lena placed her palm on the Kryptonian’s cheek.

“I know…what I’ve asked of you. I don't understand how you can say that. This has been so far from perfect.”

“Well, love doesn’t guarantee that things will be perfect,” Kara half-snorted, “and it doesn’t make us perfect. But we're both trying to grow and respect ourselves and each other. And that's what matters to me. That we support each other doing that.”

Something about it touched her; Lena leaned in and kissed Kara with longing. Again the physical contact between their bodies produced an emotional response that startled her: all at once she felt daring, wildly alive, protected, and at ease.

Their kiss came apart when Kara smiled. Lena pulled back to search her face.

“I only stopped because I was just thinking,” the blonde laughed a little, “about the broken window in your living room. I keep breaking your windows. And your couch probably still has glass fragments in it, even though I tried to clean them up—and that definitely isn’t safe. So I thought about you getting a new couch, just to make sure y—”

“Your concern about my couch is touching,” Lena interrupted, the look in her eye turning mischievous as she caught Kara's drift. She tilted her head. “It’s almost as if you have a vested interest in its replacement.”

The corner of Kara’s mouth twitched. 

“Ms. Luthor, I just want to ensure you have a safe, sturdy couch in your home. Who knows what might happen the next time I visit?”

Their eyes danced together.

“Then I think it would be wise for you to help me choose the next one,” Lena replied, her voice low. “We can both make sure it’s sturdy and comfortable.”

“I would appreciate that,” Kara whispered.

For a moment they continued to stare at each other. Then the Kryptonian licked her lips, blinking, like her concentration had been broken by something, and she cleared her throat lightly.

“When you replace the window out there...will you install a balcony door for me? Like the one in your office?”

Lena’s expression smoothed over as she considered. She heard the meaning behind Kara’s words, and could sense an opportunity for closure—yet also a chance to begin again, differently. 

“That seems like a useful modification to the apartment…but I don’t know what that door would say,” she answered slowly, and still a bit playfully. “I chose _honesty_ , but you could choose a value to inscribe this time. What would you want to read when you fly by?”

She could tell by Kara's smile that the blonde had already thought about an answer, and she felt such a sense of peace as Kara looked her in the eye.

“I think it should say _love_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N2: And...that's it! Please imagine there's an upward spiral here which continues into a healthier dynamic that I just don't have the energy to write/detail. Thank you so much for hanging in here with me and encouraging me. I really appreciate all the feedback, time, and energy you put into this work—I have learned so much and tremendously benefited from your comments, probably more than you know. Definitely a bright spot in my year. Not sure what's in store for me next life-wise, but I do hope I'll get back to writing. Please stay safe, have a happy New Year...and let's all kick ass and strive to be healthy, mature, grounded people in 2021!

**Author's Note:**

> A/N2: Feedback is welcome and appreciated throughout the story!


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